


Always Been You

by evangelinerose



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Blood and Violence, Drama & Romance, F/F, F/M, Mystery, Sex, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-08
Updated: 2020-05-05
Packaged: 2020-06-24 17:48:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 28
Words: 109,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19728673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evangelinerose/pseuds/evangelinerose
Summary: In a post-War Wizarding World that is still struggling to heal, the Ministry is attempting to create bonds and alliances where there used to be prejudices; but, as everyone will find out, this will not prove to be so easy, especially once certain events and evil begins to unfold. As it turns out, the problems plaguing the magical community did not end with Voldemort.





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to part 1 of my current Draco x Reader, a long slow burn WIP.
> 
> Please keep in mind that it is for adult audiences only, due to dark themes such as violence, (very brief) mentions of and allusions to non-con, sexual themes and explicit sex, and some violent scenes. Specific chapter warnings will also be at the beginning in the notes, so please read those if there is something specific you'd like to avoid.
> 
> This chapter contains: sexual themes, language
> 
> Any feedback or comments would be MUCH appreciated :)

“Three Firewhiskey shots,” you heard a very familiar voice say.

Turning from behind the bar where you had been simultaneously preparing multiple Butterbeer pitchers with your wand, you turned and shot him a wide smile. “Certainly, sir,” you said, your tone teasing. “Though I do feel the need to remind you that the last time you were in this bar I had to help you home, so-”

“I remember.” Draco rolled his eyes, but he was grinning. “In my defense, it was a weekend night. And Theo had to bear most of my weight, anyway.”

You shook your head at him. “Still.”

“Point taken,” he conceded, though he gave you a look that he must have assumed was of supreme innocence. “But am I to blame for wanting to spend some time with my very best friend at her job?”

It was your turn to roll your eyes with a smile. “Excuses, and now flattery? You should know better.” Carefully, you levitated all of the pitchers you had just made onto a tray, along with some empty glasses, and then laughed at the way he was playfully arching his eyebrow at you. “Is everyone else coming tonight, too?”

“Just Daphne and Pansy, I think,” he replied.

“I’m off in just a few minutes,” you told him, and then you walked away, hovering the tray in front of you around the bar and out to one of the booths, which was packed with a group of young men.

“Well hello there, gorgeous,” one of them said, and the others chortled at his comment. All of their eyeballs were trained on you appreciatively, not even bothering to hide the fact that they were scanning you up and down. You were used to this sort of treatment from male customers, and though you were tipped well for putting up with it, that didn’t make it any less irritating at times.

“Hey, boys,” you said easily, ignoring their gazes as best you could and flicking your wand again so that everything filed off the tray and onto the table. “Enjoy your drinks, yeah?”

“Made by you? I’m sure we will,” another one said, and they all laughed again the way that groups of men do when they sexualize a woman in a bar. You merely gave them a humorless smile before striding away back to the bar, rolling your eyes irritably as soon as they could no longer see your face. When you arrived back at your station and began preparing Draco’s Firewhiskey shots, he was watching you carefully.

“Those guys bothering you?” he asked finally, his voice very tight.

“No,” you assured him very quickly. Peeking down, you saw that his arm lying on the counter top was clenched into a fist, and you briefly wondered how much he had heard. You hoped nothing. Draco’s brotherly instincts had caused him to overreact about this kind of thing before.

His voice was low and rough, and it was as if he were struggling not to say it but couldn’t help himself. “Really? Because they were eye raping you.”

You opened your mouth to retort but you were cut off by a loud, female voice that was laced with amusement. “Oh, but Draco, how else would she make her money?” Pansy had arrived, with her arm slung over Daphne’s shoulders, and she was giving you a mischievous smile. “I say that Y/N should use her sex appeal to milk those idiots' wallets dry, personally."

Reaching over the bar, she kissed you on the cheek twice in greeting, as did Daphne, before they settled in the stools next to Draco, who looked very sour indeed and glared at the Firewhiskey shots you passed him.

Without asking, you started making Daphne and Pansy’s favorite cocktails as was your usual routine and set them in front of them. “Thanks, Y/N,” said Daphne, beaming at you.

“Yeah, thanks,” said Pansy, knocking half of hers back in one go.

It was time for your shift to be over, so you went to cash out, take off your apron, and update the bartender taking over for you - Amanda - and by the time you were back and had slid in to the seat next to Draco, Pansy was chatting animatedly about a party she had thrown for a client a few days ago. “So,” she said after the story, “Speaking of parties – Y/N, will you come over tomorrow and get ready with Daphne and I before the Ministry gala?”

Draco groaned out loud, and you couldn’t say you blamed him.

Ever since the end of the second War, things had been rocky at best in the Wizarding world. Relationships between Pureblood families and the rest of the magical community were still rather strained, to say the least, as many felt that some of the Pureblood families deserved more punishment. Indeed, your group of Slytherin friends did not usually get friendly glances in public, to say the least. This Gala they were throwing was a way to try and mend relations and promote unity.

Pansy, whose job involved planning and throwing some of the biggest bashes for the richest people, had been put in charge of organizing it. Of course, that meant the party itself was going to be wonderfully done – Pansy was damn good at her job. The problem was that half of the people there hated the lot of you, and many still wanted to see Draco in particular, the ex Death Eater, behind bars, and they were still angry about his easy trial after the Dark Lord had been defeated.

The Ministry (and not to mention Pansy) had been quite adamant that you all come, however, so there really wasn’t a way out of it. Narcissa had surprisingly been behind the idea, as well. After Lucius had been put in Azkaban, she was desperate to mend public perceptions of the Malfoys and restore the family's good name.

“There’s no way out of it?” asked Draco, who seemed to be thinking along the exact same lines as you.

“Sadly not,” answered Pansy.

“Fine,” Draco said gruffly, a stormy expression on his face Underneath, you could detect the dread in his eyes. “But there better be lots of booze.”

“Oh, there’ll be plenty of booze,” said Pansy, a little darkly. “I think everyone there will need a way to relax. So, Y/N, what time do you want to come by tomorrow? Does 3 PM sound good?”

“Sure,” you said, nodding.

Pansy smiled, though you could see the slight strain on her face. You were sure planning this thing had been stressful on her lately. “Great!”

A cheerful voice suddenly sounded from behind you. “Hey, ladies!”

Three of the men from the group had come over to stand near you, smiling widely. The others were peering across the room, clearly excited to see if their friends would emerge victorious. The Butterbeers you had given this group of men were already beginning to take effect; which was no surprise, seeing as how many of the pitchers were already empty. You were suddenly infinitely glad that your shift was over and they were no longer your responsibility. “You two, hey!”

The man speaking was addressing Pansy and Daphne, and with knowing looks on their faces, the couple turned to face the three men, who were all grinning stupidly. “Want to join us and give us a little show later?”

There was a loud peal of laughter at this, also from the table across the way. Daphne looked positively furious - a rarity on her - and Draco’s shoulders tensed. He quickly reached for his shots and knocked all three of them back so quickly you could only sit there watching, mouth agape in surprise.

Pansy, however, merely gave a soft, tinkling laugh and shot them a smile that you recognized all too well. It was dangerous. “Well unfortunately, boys, even the sight of cock makes us sick, so we’ll have to decline.” Her voice suddenly darkened and got much, much sharper. “To translate? Fuck off.”

There was another wave of rowdy laughter at her response, and their hungry eyes shifted to you. Involuntarily, you leaned away, putting distance between you and them as you felt your heart speed up. You heard but did not see the way Draco shifted in his seat beside you. “Well, what about you, beautiful? How do _you_ feel about cock?” asked one of them jeeringly, and you felt your insides twist at his crude language and the way that his eyes were scanning you.

But you didn’t have to sit with your discomfort for long, because Draco had finally snapped. He stood to face the men and drew his wand, a terrible fury twisting his features and his eyes blazing wildly. “If you want to keep your cock,” he snarled, his voice low but threatening, “I suggest you walk away and leave the women alone. Now.”

Instantly, all three men drew their wands as well, pointing them directly at Draco’s heaving chest. Most people in the bar had turned to watch, and the room had suddenly gotten extremely quiet.

“Draco,” you began to protest - he was outnumbered, and you didn’t like to see wands pointed at him - but he didn’t look at you or give any indication that he had even heard. His jaw was clenched very tightly and his gaze was hard as he simply stared down the group, unwilling to back down.

“Merlin, you’ve got an aggressive boyfriend,” one of them said to you, eyeing Draco with intense dislike.

You sighed heavily. “He’s not-”

But you were cut off by yet another male voice that you knew all too well. “Actually, I like to think I’m only an aggressive person on the Quidditch pitch.”

Your boyfriend of some months now, Ethan, had appeared - apparently intending to pick you up from work - and though his words were somewhat of a joke, his voice was a little strained. However, his narrowed eyes were not fixed on the other men, like you had expected, but on Draco. “ _I’m_ actually her boyfriend, you see,” he continued, rather unnecessarily, striding up to stand beside you and facing the men with his chin held high.

Ethan was very tall, with olive toned skin, and his dark eyes glinted at the group rather threateningly. Immediately, looking between the two men flanked on either side of you, their group deflated. And, just as suddenly as it had all begun, they had put away their wands and were already walking away, grumbling to themselves. There was a long, uncomfortable pause.

“That was…” began Daphne, apparently looking for words.

“Ridiculous,” finished Pansy for her.

“I seem to have arrived at the right time then,” said Ethan, raising his eyebrows. His gaze flicked to Draco one more time, lingering momentarily before it moved to Daphne and Pansy. “How are you two?” he asked.

“Great,” said Pansy, giving him a winning smile. “We were just talking about the Gala tomorrow. I assume you’ll be there?”

“Oh yes. I’m looking forward to it,” he said, flashing her a smile just as dazzling. He had lots of practice from all the Quidditch interviews. You missed Draco’s dark, skeptical look from behind you and the way he pursed his lips before throwing back another shot. Ethan continued speaking cheerfully. “Would you all mind if I steal Y/N for the rest of the evening? I was away all last week, you see, so I’d like to spend some - ah - quality time with my girlfriend.” Again, his eyes flicked briefly over to Draco behind you before they rested on you. He smiled.

“Not at all,” said Daphne quickly.

“We can all spend time together at the party tomorrow, I hope?” said Ethan.

“Of course,” said Pansy. “See you two tomorrow.”

“Bye,” you said to them, and then turned to look up into Draco’s face. You had the distinct feeling he was trying to keep his temper under control, because you could practically see the tension rolling off his body in waves. You sighed. “See you later?” you said to him, softly, reaching out to touch his arm reassuringly.

He cleared his throat. “Yeah…later.” It seemed to cost him great effort even for those two words, so you didn’t push further. You just gave them all one, final smile and then turned to go. As soon as you had walked away - with Ethan’s arm wrapped securely around your waist - Draco’s scowl deepened and he signaled the new bartender for yet another round of Firewhiskey shots.

“So much testosterone,” giggled Daphne.

“Shut it,” muttered Draco, teeth clenched.

“Seriously,” said Pansy, “Could it be any more obvious that you hate him?”

“What about _him_?” Draco was sullen that his two friends weren’t immediately jumping to his defense. “He’s always been a prick to me. You notice how he talked to you two and ignored me, right?"

“He, like you, is just trying to show who has the biggest, reddest ass,” said Pansy, grinning. “Men are so easy.”

Daphne nodded wisely. “This isn’t the first time you were mistaken to be her lover. It’s natural he’ll feel threatened by you.”

“I’m just looking after her. Like any good best friend would,” Draco muttered, eyes moving to the counter top and frowning. “He’s just an arse.”

“You say that about all her boyfriends,” Daphne reminded him.

“There’s something really not right about him!” he argued heatedly.

Pansy shot Draco a wicked smile before she scoffed, arching a perfectly shaped eyebrow. “ _Quality time_ \- he might has well just said what they’re really going to do. That he’s about to be balls deep-”

“Pansy,” Daphne quickly spoke over her, giving her girlfriend a pleading look and glancing at Draco, who had gone rigid in his seat, “No need to be so crude.”

Amanda the bartender suddenly came over to put the Firewhiskey shots in front of him with an alluring, lingering smile. Draco reached for them quickly, desperately needing something to do with his hands. Ethan was essentially the three things he wasn’t, and wanted to be: well-liked in the post-war Wizarding World, not an ex-Death eater, and a professional Quidditch player.

Bastard.

He grimaced, both at these thoughts and the aftertaste of the shots he had just taken. His head was starting to spin deliciously and he welcomed the feeling.

When he looked back over at his friends, he caught Daphne giving Pansy a reproachful look which somehow made him feel even worse. And then he eyed Amanda the bartender; how the sway of her hips was becoming more and more enticing the more shots he had taken and the more his head spun.

He needed a distraction, and to release some tension.


	2. Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one in which boyfriend is a jerk and Reader has to confront something rather uncomfortable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback on this fun, trashy little story of mine would be endlessly appreciated!
> 
> This chapter's warnings: a (very unsatisfying) sex scene and lots of talk about sex in general, language, and shameless drama :D

“I don’t like it,” Ethan said almost as soon as you set foot outside the bar.

“What?” But you already knew what was coming.

“He doesn’t act like your best friend,” he said, frowning. “If you’re only friends, why do people always think something else?”

“It doesn’t matter what others think, Ethan,” you sighed.

“Does it matter what I think?” he demanded, shooting you a glare.

“Yes,” you said calmly. “But I’ve always told you-”

“I know what you’ve told me, and I’m telling you something different!” he hissed. “He’s intruding on our relationship, and he hates me.”

You scoffed. “Don’t be ridiculous. He’s my best friend, Ethan. And what about the way you treat him, hmm? Never speaking to him but making a point to talk to Daphne and Pansy, always shooting him those glares…”

He threw his arms up in exasperation and stopped walking, as you had reached the alleyway where you would Apparate back to your flat. “Yes, defend him! How did I know that you would?”

Pink, angry patches appeared on your cheeks. “I just want you two to get along, and I’m only saying it’s not all his fault! You’re not exactly charming in front of him, so he’s just being protective!”

“Bullshit,” he fumed. He suddenly gripped your arm very fiercely and turned on the spot, Apparating the both of you to your doorstep. Gasping in deep breaths of air as the gripping sensation of Apparation disappeared, you started fishing out your keys, ignoring him and feeling your heart pound in your chest. You hated fighting with Ethan, and this was a fight you had both had far too many times, in your opinion.

Once inside and with the door shut, he rounded on you again, furiously. “I need to know that you’d choose me, Y/N!”

“I’m not choosing anyone,” you yelled, suddenly angry beyond belief. “Don’t you dare put me in that position, Ethan, I will _not_ take kindly with having to choose between my best friend and my boyfriend! And if you really loved me, you wouldn’t ask me to!”

He gaped at you for a moment, soundlessly, and then looked sullen for a moment. “Oh yes, I’m sure that _he’s_ never said this to you, perfect Draco-”

“As a matter of fact, he hasn’t!” you snapped. “You’re being a child!” Your chest was heaving, and irritated tears formed in your eyes and started to fall down your cheeks. Angrily, you wiped the tears and turned away to hang up your coat.

He was silent behind you for a long moment, and then he was right behind you, wrapping his hands around your waist. “I’m sorry,” he muttered into your ear, brushing his lips against your neck.

Sighing, you allowed him to nuzzle into your hair and neck. “I’m tired of having this fight,” you whispered. “Please…”

“I won’t bring it up anymore,” he promised trailing his fingers seductively up your spine. “I love you.”

And then he spun you around, kissing you with a rough sort of desperation and pressing you up against the wall. You responded even though you weren’t particularly in the mood, yet; wrapping your arms around his neck and letting your tongue intertwine with his as he kissed you, over and over. Soon enough you were feeling the familiar twinge below your belly - it had been a whole week, after all, and the tension from the scene at the bar and your argument needed to be released somehow…

Less than five minutes later you were in your bedroom and completely naked - he never had been a fan of much foreplay - and he threw you onto the bed, hovering over you momentarily to press wet kisses across your breasts and flick his tongue across them before he sunk inside of you with a deep groan. You clutched at his back, arching yours in response as he filled you and began to move, first slowly and then eventually speeding up until he was thrusting with fast, rough movements.

“Mine,” he muttered gruffly into your ear, pumping in and out. “You’re mine.”

You closed your eyes and tried to concentrate on your pleasure and the feeling below your waist, to think of this rough possessiveness as something sexy and not merely an outpost of his jealousy; but it was difficult when he was slamming in and out without regard for how it felt to you. You tilted your hips up, desperately hoping to hit the right spot, scratching at his back and wanting - no, _needing_ \- to feel the release…you were starting to feel something in your core…maybe this time, you could finally achieve that blissful ending…

_More, more_ , you begged in your mind, as the tension was beginning to build, the coil winding tighter and tighter…

With a stuttered groan of ecstasy, he gave one final snap of his hips and emptied into you, collapsing onto your body and shuddering from the aftershocks of his orgasm. You opened your eyes and struggled to contain your heavy sigh of disappointment - you had been so _close_ , this time.

“You’re beautiful,” he muttered, rolling off of you and panting. “Amazing.”

“Mmm,” was all you said as you lay there, trying to ignore the ache between your thighs and your growing resentment toward him. Wasn’t make up sex supposed to be mind-blowing?

It didn’t seem to concern him at all, whether you had finished or not. Of all the times you had been with him, he had really only taken care of you twice. And so you were often left like this - with that tightly wound up coil inside that never got to fully release, and desperately unsatisfied.

You considered asking him to finish you, since the tension was particularly bad tonight, but as you peeked over to look at his face, you saw that he was already fast asleep.

* * *

“Y/N,” said Amanda from behind you excitedly, a rosy blush tinting her cheeks. You turned and smiled, glad to see her. The bar was getting busy, and for your last few hours on duty it would be nice to have the extra help.

“Hey Amanda,” you said kindly.

She seemed to be positively glowing. “Good night last night?”

You bent over and began adding the totals together for the day to cash out with a smile on your lips. Amanda wasn’t exactly your type - too bubbly for you to see more outside of work - but you still liked her. “Sure. I take it you had one? You’re practically dancing with joy over there.”

Her flush grew. “I had a _great_ night,” she said pointedly.

Oh boy. You knew what _that_ meant. She had been known to share far too many details with you on this kind of thing before, so you hoped she wouldn’t take your politeness as genuine curiosity. “I’m so happy for you,” you said sincerely.

“He was amazing,” she breathed, putting her apron on with a dreamy expression. She peeked around to make sure no one was listening in and then flashed you a mischievous grin. “Not the most personal type, though. He actually hardly even looked at me, to be honest. Then again, it was mostly from behind–”

“That’s nice,” you interjected quickly, hoping it would stop her. It didn’t.

“Still,” Amanda continued, oblivious to your rising discomfort. “He was the best I’ve ever had. It was so _rough_.”

“Merlin, Amanda, I didn’t need details,” you muttered, feeling rather cross now as you finally straightened up to take off your apron. You wanted to think she was shallow but really, you would give a lot of things for a shag that made you this ecstatic the next day, and the truth was, you were envious. Particularly after the disappointing night you’d had.

“Sorry,” she said, though her eyes were still glazed over.

“It's okay. I'm happy for you,” you told her again, sincerely. “Who was it?”

For the first time, Amanda looked rather tentative. “Well, that’s the thing. Erm…I was kind of hoping for your advice. About him. Because I’d like to see him again, but this morning he was already gone…”

“Hold on,” you said. “You want my advice? Do I know him, or something?”

“Well, yeah,” said Amanda, nodding and flashing you a bit of a nervous smile. “It was Draco.”

You nearly dropped the apron in your hands as you stared back at her, wide-eyed, and you had to choke out your question. “You…you and Draco slept together last night?”

“That’s putting it mildly,” she said, with a little giggle; and suddenly you wanted nothing more than to strangle her with your bare hands. The desire was so strong that you had to clench them at your sides to restrain yourself. Your heart had sped up, there was a loud ringing sound in your ears, and it was as if boiling water was filling up your entire body.

And you realized this was much more than disgust; you were _furious_.

_That’s strange_ , a little voice in your head said, but you ignored it and opted instead to try and control the violent tendencies and ignore images that were now unwillingly springing into your head - that she had planted there by giving you far too many details.

“Y/N?” She was looking at you, a bit concerned now.

You arranged your face into what you hoped was a neutral expression. “I really prefer not to get involved in Draco’s love life, to be honest.” Even to you, your voice sounded hard.

“I’m not looking for anything serious,” she assured you quickly. As if that made any of this better. “I was just hoping we could-”

“Whatever you’re hoping to do with him, you’ll just have to tell him yourself,” you snapped. “Because I don’t want to hear it.”

No wonder he was always coming by the bar. He had always said it was to see you, but now you realized that it had probably been to ogle Amanda. How could you be that oblivious? And now they’d shagged.

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” she said quietly, biting her lip in worry. “I should have thought more. It’s probably strange to hear about him shagging. Come to think of it, it’d be gross to hear about my brother in the bedroom, and he’s kind of like your brother, isn’t he?”

Your features softened slightly. Your reaction had been entirely irrational. There was no reason to be angry, or to hate her. She was just an idiot. A beautiful idiot who had run her hands all over Draco and had also had his hands all over her. Rather than look at her and send your imagination into even more of a spiral, you chose to stare firmly at the ground when you answered. “Don’t worry,” you muttered, swallowing down the sudden bile in your throat. “It’s not a big deal. I’m glad you two…had fun.”

“Thanks.” She looked massively relieved.

“I’m going to go and get the table that just came in, okay?” you said, desperate to get away from her.

“Sounds good.” She smiled at you and you returned it, hoping it wasn’t as weak as it felt to you.

The rest of your shift passed rather uneventfully, and to your immense relief, Amanda did not talk any more about the previous subject. It was quite busy, so the two of you didn’t have much time to do anything else besides focus on your duties and rake in the tip money. As it drew to a close and you had five minutes left before your shift was supposed to come to an end, you began totaling up for the evening, bent over the counter top with your back facing the bar until Amanda’s excited, breathy voice sounded behind you in greeting. “Oh! Hi, Draco.”

You nearly dropped the coins in your hand, and your stomach began churning uncomfortably. Slowly, you straightened up to see his tall form hovering on the other side of the counter. “Hi,” he said, politely, before looking at you. “Y/N,” he greeted, shooting you his crooked grin.

Your heart did a strange flutter that it had never done before, and then twisted violently seeing them next to each other, imagining them pressed up against each other or his hands twisted in her hair-

“Draco,” you greeted, nodding and trying to keep your tone even and your voice from shaking. You weren’t sure you were successful, because his brow furrowed slightly - but you turned away, back to your counting, unwilling to witness the pair interacting more than you had to.

“Draco,” Amanda began, and you tried your best not to hear, but they were too damn _close._ You scowled down at a Galleon. “I work a double shift tonight, but I get off at midnight…I was hoping maybe we could meet up?” She lowered her voice and it became sultry, suggestive - but you still, unfortunately, heard every single word. “I had _so_ _much_ fun with you yesterday.”

You could practically see the way she was smiling at him, and your hands shook violently; suddenly, the coins you had been counting dropped to the floor. There were several very loud clatters as they clinked and rolled around on the floor. Feeling your cheeks go hot, you peek up to see them both staring at you. “Sorry,” you mumbled hastily, looking away again. “ _Accio_!”

The coins zoomed into your hand and you turned away hastily again, quickly finishing up and darting away to the bathroom. You didn’t want to hear his response.

Once there, you splashed some cold water on your face and stared at your reflection, feeling rather disgusted with yourself. Amanda was a kind enough girl, if not a bit ditsy. You should be happy for him. But instead, your fingers were still trembling and you had to control the awful, compressed feeling in your chest that was making it difficult to breathe properly.

Sighing, you slipped off your apron. If you stayed much longer, you’d make things even more awkward - no doubt it had looked strange to run away so quickly in the first place. And so, bracing yourself and plastering a small, neutral smile on your face, you exited the bathroom once more.

They were no longer talking - Amanda was off serving drinks at a table and Draco was now sitting at the bar, and he had an empty shot glass in front of him. He looked up quickly when you came back out, and something in his gray eyes made your breath catch momentarily. Finally, he smiled at you. “You ready?”

“Ready?” You gave him your best smile back and hoped it appeared natural. “Are we…going somewhere?”

He stood, giving you another grin. “Yes. I thought I’d escort you to Daphne and Pansy’s. If that’s all right.” He raised a joking eyebrow at you.

“Oh.” You couldn’t help the way your eyes darted over to your coworker and then back to him. Amanda was still smiling and looking bubbly as she chatted with some customers across the room. Did that mean he was indeed going to meet up with her later? Why on earth did you care so much? “Of course,” you said, nodding and stepping forward.

He held out his arm for you to take and you gave him a shy smile, stepping forward to take it but still mostly avoiding his eyes while you allowed him to steer you out of the bar.


	3. Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one in which Reader discovers a little secret that Pansy and Draco have been keeping from her, and she vents to Daphne about some of her relationship woes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warnings: drunk jerks, language, sexual themes
> 
> As always, I'd be thrilled to hear thoughts and comments from those reading! Remember this is quite a slow burn, but it'll get there eventually. Hope you enjoy this third part :)

“You’re quiet.”

You and Draco were walking down the street toward the familiar, deserted alleyway where you commonly Apparated to and from work. It was a weekend night, so there were more people than usual milling about; you had found it was easier to concentrate on their movements rather than look over at your walking partner, but now you glanced up at him as he spoke. He was scrutinizing you carefully out of the corner of his eye.

“Busy shift,” you said lamely, looking ahead and feeling your heart continue its new strange, erratic pattern. Suddenly, a jeering voice floated through the air and you glanced up; two men were passing you on the street. Draco automatically tightened his arm so you were pulled closer into his side.

You could tell by the way they were walking that they were not exactly sober, nor were they feeling particularly friendly. However, it was not you they were looking at, but Draco. His grip on you tightened even more, and his other hand inched automatically to be near his wand pocket.

They called out to him with hazy, angry eyes and stood in your path, crossing their arms menacingly. “We recognize you,” one of them said. “Hard not to, with that hair. You’re a _Malfoy_.” The last name was spat with heavy contempt, and you felt Draco stiffen beside you even more. The two men stepped a few paces closer, narrowing their eyes. “A Death Eater.”

“He’s _not_ a Death Eater!” you insisted angrily, stepping forward without thinking, but Draco’s hand clasped around your wrist and kept you from moving any further.

“Oh sure,” said the other man sarcastically. “I suppose he’s changed now, has he? My family _died_ because of people like you!” he snarled at Draco. “And you and your mother are still free, sitting in your riches-”

“Many ex-Death Eaters got off way too easy,” agreed the other man darkly.

“He was forced-” You began furiously, but the first man cut you off.

“Shut your mouth, Pureblood whore,” he snarled, glaring at you drunkenly.

“Don’t call her that.” Draco’s voice was hard and cold, and he had taken a step to position himself in front of you, but you were thankful that he still did not draw his wand. The last thing you needed was for this to escalate and turn into a full blown duel in broad daylight, and on the day of the Gala no less.

The second man stepped forward. “Or what?” He raised a taunting eyebrow. “You do anything to us and you know they’ll put you in Azkaban faster than you can blink, _Malfoy_.”

Draco did not say anything – he merely glared at them furiously, perhaps knowing the truth in his words – and after a long, tense moment, the first man just muttered, “Watch your back, scum,” and spat at Draco’s feet before walking away, the second man following right behind him after glaring at the pair of you.

You both stood there for a moment, rather incredulous about what had just happened. You saw Draco’s chest heaving wildly, try as he might to conceal his anger. Tentatively, you touched his arm. “Hey,” you said softly. “Don’t worry about them. Let’s go, okay?”

He swallowed thickly and glanced down at you – you could still see the way that his gray eyes were swirling like thunderstorm clouds – but, with what seemed like great effort, he merely nodded and continued walking with you until you had reached the deserted alley where you could Apparate.

“I’m sorry,” he said hoarsely as you stopped, and you glanced up in surprise.

“For what?”

“That happened because you were with me.” He looked pained.

“No, it happened because they are assholes,” you said firmly. “Now come on. Daphne and Pansy are probably waiting.”

* * *

“ _There_ you are!” said Pansy, when she opened the door to see the two of you standing on the threshold. She stepped back to let you both in and closed the door with a snap behind you. Loud music was drifting into the hall from the living room. “Was the bar busier than usual or something?”

“No,” said Draco roughly. “There was a bit of a delay.” He exchanged a significant glance with Pansy and you saw comprehension in her eyes.

“Again?” she asked him, frowning.

You raised your eyebrows and glanced between the two of them just as Daphne sauntered into the room. “What do you mean _again_?” you demanded indignantly. 

“Oh, Draco and I have some people who are not fans, to put it lightly,” said Pansy dismissively. She made a brushing movement with her hand as if waving off the problem, but you could see in her eyes the hint of worry and hurt. “He was a Death Eater and I tried to sell out Harry Potter, you see. A couple of weeks ago, we were shopping…where were we, Draco?” she asked, looking at him quizzically.

“Don’t remember,” he answered, with a particularly hard look on his face.

“Well anyway, some people tried to curse us. Saying things like ‘Death Eater scum’, ‘You belong in Azkaban’, and the like. Honestly, it was a weak attempt.” She laughed lightly, but it still did not sound like her usual self. Daphne seemed to sense this and wrapped her arms around Pansy’s waist.

“People have actually come after you?” You rounded on Draco, anger lacing your tone as you thought of he and Pansy being attacked. How _dare_ they. Didn’t they understand, didn’t they know they had been children?

“It doesn’t matter,” he said in a clipped tone, avoiding your eyes.

“Doesn’t _matter_?” you repeated incredulously. “If people are attacking you-”

“Are you really surprised?” His eyes were cold when he cut you off, so cold that you took a step back. You furrowed your eyebrows together, confused at his sudden withdrawal, his sudden anger. But before you could offer any words of comfort, he said curtly, “I should get going.” His face was undeniably bitter. “See you all at that stupid _fucking_ Gala.”

“Wait,” you protested quickly. “Wait, Draco-”

But he had already turned on his heel and, without even looking at any of you again, he had opened the front door and left, slamming it behind him. This left you gaping after him and feeling rather hurt.

You turned to Pansy and Daphne. Pansy’s eyebrow was arched and she looked as if all of this was supremely unsurprising; Daphne too did not look surprised and she was biting her lip in worry, her eyes still on the door.

“Why didn’t either of you mention to me that people were having a go at you?” You frowned at Pansy.

“He told me not to,” said Pansy, sharing a look with Daphne.

You blinked, stunned. “What? Why would he do that?”

“To keep you out of it, I presume,” Pansy replied.

“That doesn’t – that’s the _stupidest_ thing -” You sputtered, irritated.

“It _is_ Draco we’re talking about,” Pansy reminded you, attempting a grin. “He does a stupid thing at least once a day.”

“Pansy,” implored Daphne, frowning slightly and putting her chin on Pansy's shoulder, “You know he’s had a rough time of it lately. And I think he’s really anxious about tonight.”

“We all are,” said Pansy, but then her voice suddenly softened. “But I know. I know he has the worst of it.”

You all stood in a somber silence for the moment. Part of you wanted to run after him, but you knew it was best with Draco to wait until his mood had passed. And besides, you’d see him in just a few short hours. Nerves erupted in your stomach at the thought of this important event looming over you.

“Let’s get ready,” suggested Daphne, unwrapping her arms from Pansy’s waist and gesturing the two of you toward the living room. “We’ve got music on, the makeup, _tons_ of chocolate, champagne, magazines – Pansy went a little crazy, to be honest -”

Pansy tugged on her hair affectionately, grinning wildly as you all began to walk to the living room. “This is my special pre-party for the girls. What did you expect?”

“Nothing less, from you,” you chimed in, and she stuck out her tongue out at you. “Hey!” you laughed. “It was a compliment. You’re good at your job, Pansy. The only thing keeping me going about tonight is seeing what you’ve done with the place.”

She beamed at you in response. “She is talented, isn’t she?” Daphne cooed as the three of you settled on the couches.

The three of you quickly began to banter and laugh as you dove into the chocolate, drinks, and magazines, but you couldn’t get your mind off of your best friend and the look in his eyes as he had left. Pansy and Daphne, however, were excellent distractions, and you found yourself eventually relaxing in spite of yourself. Pansy’s well-created atmosphere no doubt helped as well.

You and Daphne worked on Pansy's makeup first, since she had to leave the earliest to do some setup before the event was to begin. As Pansy was off getting dressed, Daphne began to work on your hair and makeup. By this point, you were feeling deliciously tipsy after three generous glasses of champagne.

“Well?” Pansy had come into the room in a silver, shimmering dress and red heels. Grinning, she did a twirl. “What do you think?”

“I’d do you,” you said, shrugging, which made them both snort with laughter.

“You’re perfection,” Daphne exclaimed, getting up to kiss her girlfriend. It was not a chaste kiss, and after a few moments of things beginning to get more and more heated, you cleared your throat pointedly.

“I’m in the room,” you reminded them, and they turned to smile at you.

“I’ve got to run,” said Pansy. “I’ll see you there.”

You waved, and Daphne walked her to the door – presumably, to finish their goodbye make out session in the hall – when she had returned, you were filling another glass with champagne, and it was no small amount.

Daphne sat back down on the couch and watched you drink the entire thing and then set it down on the table with a loud thunk. “Rough day?” she asked casually, eyeing the now empty glass.

“Kind of,” you said lightly.

“Asshole customers again?” She sat behind you and resumed her work on your hair; she was fashioning it into curls for the evening.

You sighed. “No. My coworker was a bit…grating today.”

“Amanda?” Daphne sounded surprised. “Don’t you two get on well?”

“Oh yeah,” you said, frowning to yourself. “She just likes to talk in far much detail about her sex escapades.” Your head was spinning a little, and you could feel your guard letting down under influence of all the drinks. “I don’t like to hear them under any circumstances, but these were worse.”

She laughed. “Why’s that?”

“For one thing, they were about her and Draco last night.”

Her movements in your hair suddenly stopped. “What?” She sounded incredulous. “She and Draco…?”

“Yes.” You hoped you didn’t sound as miserable as you felt, but you were much worse at disguising your emotions when you were drunk. “Let’s just say that I heard way too much. It was very…awkward.” The real word was infuriating, but you didn’t feel that Daphne had to know that part.

“I’m sure,” said Daphne softly. “Turn around, I’ll start on your makeup.”

Obediently, you turned around to face her. Daphne saw the way your brow had furrowed as you were deep in thought, and the frown that had stolen over your face, but she didn’t comment. Daphne knew when to not press for information, so she changed the subject.

“How are things with Ethan?” she asked, as she began to run a powder brush over your face with concentrated eyes.

You shrugged. “Fine.”

“That doesn’t sound very enthusiastic,” she commented.

“It’s not,” you said honestly. Too honestly. Thanks, champagne.

“Anything you want to talk about?” Daphne’s voice was careful.

You closed your eyes as she began working on your eyelids with some color. “It’s just…the way Amanda was talking about shagging made me realize…” You trailed off, but Daphne didn’t press. She merely waited, dabbing on more eye shadow calmly. “I realized,” you continued, your voice a little stronger, “That I should be having better sex.”

You were very glad that your eyes were closed and you didn’t have to see her reaction. You hadn’t meant to put it quite so bluntly. Her voice sounded surprised, but serious. “Do you not have orgasms?”

“Only twice from him,” you mumbled, cheeks flaming by this point.

“Does he not excite you?” Though her voice was carefully controlled, you detected something you didn’t quite recognize under the surface.

“I don’t know,” you mumbled miserably. “I mean, I suppose…but he just doesn’t pay much attention and I feel sort of…left hanging.” ‘ _Oh my god, why are you telling her this??’_ one half of your brain screamed at you. But the other half was just relieved to get it out there.

“Oh honey,” Daphne said reproachfully. She had stopped dabbing at your eyes, and you opened them to look at her. She was frowning deeply, leaning back on the couch as she looked at you. “That’s unacceptable.”

For some reason, this made you feel better and lessened your embarrassment. You knew Daphne wasn't judging. It was nice to have someone sympathize with you, even if that someone was also getting laid regularly and probably spectacularly. The next part came spilling out of you mostly automatically, the words rushing over each other now that the flood gates had opened. “And he is always such an _asshole_ about Draco. And _to_ him. We fight about it all the time.”

“Do you?” She was moving a pencil over your eyebrows now.

“Yes,” you said heatedly, thinking back to your most recent fight and feeling more and more bitter every second. “He’s asked me – multiple times – to promise that I would choose him. But I always tell him it’s horrible to make me choose between my best friend and my boyfriend.”

“I’m sorry, Y/N.” She was gazing at you very sympathetically.

Sighing heavily, you glanced up at her. “Thanks for listening, Daphne. It was probably way too much information.”

“Anytime,” she said sincerely. She hesitated. “Y/N,” she began, and you heard how her had subtly changed. You glanced up, trying to read her face and guess what was coming. “If I were to give you details about Pansy and I, how would you feel?” You crooked an eyebrow at her. “I’m not going to,” she assured, grinning playfully at you and rolling her eyes. “Just answer the question.”

“I’d feel very...grossed out,” you answered, after a moment of thought.

“Would it upset you? Make you sad, or angry, even? Would it bother you all day?”

Your eyes met hers and she was giving you a very knowing look.

“No,” you whispered, even though you had a feeling you didn’t need to say the answer. She already knew. Your head spun again.

She merely gave you a small smile. “Just some food for thought,” she said gently, and then proceeded to do your mascara.


	4. Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Summary: In which Reader and friends attend the Ministry Gala and get a surprise.
> 
> Chapter Warnings: language, sexual themes, pining & broody Draco ;)
> 
> As always, I appreciate comments so much. Keep them coming if you can, they are so inspiring! Thank you to those reading and I really hope you enjoy this next chapter...the rising action begins :)

Daphne Greengrass was good at being tactful.

Her true Slytherin nature - her cunning and her wit - was in the way that she skillfully spoke with the people around her, the way she made them see or understand things without directly saying what she wanted them to see or understand. She had always been good at managing interpersonal relationships, and out of the group of friends she was the group mediator.

Tonight, however, as she stood in the breathtaking room of the Ministry Gala scanning for her friend, she decided that tact and subtlety would have to go out the window.

Finally. _  
_

_There_ was that tall, blonde head.

Finishing her glass of champagne in one quick swallow, she set it down with a clang on the nearest table and marched across the room as quickly as her high heels would allow, weaving her way through talking and laughing groups of witches and wizards in their most expensive evening wear. 

Draco’s eyes were locked onto something near the door, a bit of a frown on his face, and Daphne didn’t even have to look over and follow his gaze to know what he was looking at. So she just tapped him, and he seemed to jump out of a deep reverie before turning to see her standing there.

He had the audacity to grin. “Daphne,” he greeted, with a nod.

Without preamble, she smacked him hard on the chest, and he let out a little cry of surprise and indignation. “Oi! What was that for?”

“Two things,” she said tersely, crossing her arms and arching an eyebrow up at him. “First, for storming out of our flat today like a complete arse. And second, for shagging Y/N’s coworker.”

She observed his reaction to this carefully, and it really was rather comical, but she resisted the overwhelming urge to laugh. Because Draco Malfoy, Occulumens extraordinaire, had been taken by surprise, and she could actually see the emotions in his eyes. She saw confusion, horror, and then finally anger flit across his features before he managed to neutralize his face.

“What’s it to you who I sleep with?” he snapped.

Daphne rolled her eyes. “That girl bombarded Y/N at work today with details, and it made _her_ very uncomfortable. You care about _that_ , don’t you?”

Draco blinked, and Daphne reveled in the feeling of surprising him a second time. He pursed his lips tightly, mulishly, and she sighed inwardly. She already knew what was coming; he was so damn stubborn sometimes. 

“So?” he drawled arrogantly. “It’s not my fault she couldn’t keep quiet about it. I must have really made an impression if –”

“Oh, shut the fuck up,” Daphne hissed.

He raised his eyebrows, and then smirked. “My, Daphne,” he drawled, “You know, I expect this sort of behavior and language from Pansy, but – ”

“I know you care about this,” Daphne pressed, cutting him off. “I _know_ you do, Draco, so don’t try and lie to me. Was this about her and Ethan last night?”

He bristled, his eyebrows drawing together. She could see that she may have gone too far, pressed too hard at Draco’s carefully constructed walls. Plus, he had been drinking plenty tonight already, which certainly didn’t help. “I wanted a shag,” he said finally, his voice hard and cold. “I’m a man with needs and it’s that simple, Daphne. So mind your own business.”

She threw up her arms, now completely exasperated. “Fine! I’m trying to help you, you know. I had some news that may be of interest to you. But _fine_.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued in spite of himself, and when she turned to go, he caught her arm. “All right, I’ll bite,” he murmured. “What is it?”

Her eyes darted over his shoulder, in the direction he had been gazing when she had first walked up to him. You were still there near the doorway with Ethan, hooked on his arm and unable to move due to the crowd of reporters that had descended on the pair of you as soon as you had entered the room. You were smiling at all of the many cameras that were being pointed in your face, trying to look delighted instead of irritated with the attention as Daphne knew you really were, and looking positively stunning in a dress of deep red.

“A little birdie told me,” said Daphne in a lilted voice, tilting her head significantly toward you with widened eyes, “That there is trouble in paradise.”

It seemed to take Draco a moment to process what she had said, and then his eyes flew over to the posing couple before widening at Daphne, just a fraction. But she saw it, and she smiled inwardly, though she was careful to keep her face still and unrevealing of her triumph.

Oh yes, her suspicions were _very_ correct.

“What else did she tell you?” he demanded quickly.

Daphne smiled rather wickedly. “Ah,” she said, shaking her head. “No, sorry. _That_ is girl code, Draco. And besides, I thought you didn’t care?”

He opened and closed his mouth furiously, but she could see on his face that he knew he couldn’t argue. Finally, he just scowled heavily at her and took a large, long sip of his own drink, but she caught how his eyes darted again to the doorway as he was doing so.

Daphne sighed. “I know it sucks to be here and have everyone look at you like they want you behind bars.” She touched his arm reassuringly, and she saw him deflate a little; suddenly could see the exhaustion in his eyes. “But we’ll all get through tonight together, all right?”

“If you say so,” he muttered.

Daphne gave him a small, reassuring smile. “I’m going to find Pansy now,” she said. “I’ll talk to you later. Try not to drown yourself in alcohol.” She eyed his almost empty glass, wondering how many he had finished before it. It was partially a joke, but she really _had_ become a bit concerned with the drinking habits of Draco and Theo in particular after the war.

He just rolled his eyes and gave her a lopsided grin. “I’ll do my best.”

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

Why did there have to be so many bloody reporters?

And why in the name of Merlin did they have to care about the most ridiculous and trivial things, like who a Quidditch star was dating and which parties he had attended the week before?

This Gala was _supposed_ to be about mending postwar relations, but as soon as you had come through the door on Ethan’s arm it seemed like all the reporters had flocked to him. They did this rather than go to the organizers of the event, rather than go to the people who would give intelligent interviews that spoke about important subjects – such as what steps would be taken to integrate the Muggleborn and Pureblood communities, eliminate prejudices, and increase understanding.

Instead, you got questions like –

“Lovely dress, Miss Y/L/N. Did he buy it for you?”

Or –

“We noticed that you did not attend your boyfriend’s Quidditch games last weekend. What did you do instead, Miss Y/L/N? Does he mind when you miss his games? Do you miss him when he’s away?”

All of it made you want to scream or pull your hair out. Or perhaps both.

It didn’t help matters that you were already more than a bit tipsy from all the champagne at Daphne’s house, nor did it help that your resentment for the man on your arm was growing, both because of the conversation you had had with Daphne and also because all of these absolute _vultures_ were poking and prying into your private life because of him and he didn’t seem to care.

Most of the time, Ethan answered all the questions for you. That was fine. In fact, you preferred it this way. It allowed you to concentrate on the smiling part for all of the stupid pictures, and besides, you didn’t know how to give the appropriate, pleasing answers that they so clearly desired to hear.

Tonight, he indulged them for longer than usual, and you kept squeezing his arm, tighter and tighter, hoping he would get the hint that you wanted the end.

Finally - _finally_ \- he said, in a voice that was much more cheerful and polite than you would ever be able to manage when being bombarded by these people, “We should be getting along now - people to meet up with…”

Reluctantly, the sea finally parted and they allowed you to pass, though the cameras were still flashing. Ethan chuckled and peeked down at you teasingly as soon as you were a safe distance away, and he leaned down to speak quietly in your ear. “You may want to ease up your grip. Unless you’re actively trying to cut off the circulation on my arm. In which case, carry on.”

Sighing, you loosened your fingers. “Sorry,” you muttered in a low voice. “But you know how that shit puts me completely on edge.”

You caught the deep, wounded frown that flitted across his face. “That _shit_ is part of what comes with my career,” he told you. “I can’t help it.”

_You could, however, be less in love with all the attention_ , you thought to yourself irritably. _Or more understanding of my part in it._

Out loud, however, you merely said, “I know that, Ethan.”

Your eyes were hopefully scanning the room for your friends, and you were also really taking in the decorations for the first time now that you were no longer blinded by camera flashes. Pansy, it seemed, had outdone herself this time. There were at least a hundred tables covered in tablecloths the color of silk; a band played at the front of the room near a gigantic dance floor where people were turning and swaying, dresses swirling out in rhythm to the music; and there were multiple food and drink tables, complete with fancy dishes and desserts. You could make out more than one chocolate fondue fountain.

Pansy and Daphne were on the dance floor, dancing so wildly and obviously having such a great time that they were easily carving a path through the other dancers, most of whom were watching them with grins of amusement.

Some, however, were watching the girls with clear distrust and anger; the same looks that plagued all of the Slytherins or Purebloods.

Finally, you spotted who you had been really wanting to see since that afternoon.

Draco was standing at the drinks table with Theodore, both with drinks in their hands and wearing suits that probably cost more than what you made in a few months. Draco seemed to sense your gaze, for he looked up over Theo’s shoulder and, across the room, your eyes met. He had on a gray tie that enunciated the color of his eyes so that you could see them easily from even here, and after a moment, he grinned at you.

And oh my, he was so devastatingly handsome.

Your breath caught and you shook yourself a little, unsure where the thought had come from. But it was _true_. He was so very tall, and the suit he was wearing only served to make him look more dapper, more composed, more aristocratic; and the result was incredibly attractive.

How had you never noticed quite how much before?

Theo had turned to see what Draco was looking at; with a jolt, you realized you had been staring, and now you moved your gaze to Theo, who waved at you. Beaming, you waved back at the pair of them and then turned to Ethan, about to say that you wanted to go over and talk to them.

However, with a sinking feeling of discomfort, you realized he had been carefully watching the entire exchange, and that his eyes were narrowed. “Do I get to have the first dance with you?” he asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Or does that honor go to the _best_ _friend_?”

The anger swelled up, but you did your best to force it down and keep a neutral expression plastered on your face. “Please Ethan,” you begged, keeping your voice at a low murmur as you looked up at him. “Not this. Not tonight, not here. Of course we should dance together.”

But, as he led you out to the dance floor, you couldn’t help but think that honestly, you would much rather just be over with your friends.

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

Three songs.

Ethan had wanted to dance with you for _three whole songs_ , and he had smiled at cameras and other dancers in a way that made you want to strangle him. Playing to the attention, like it was a show or a beauty contest and not an important political event.

Finally, when the third song came to a close, you decided you had to put your foot down. “I want to go and get a drink,” you said.

“I’m going to mingle a bit,” he told you, his voice agreeable. He was seemingly in a better mood after all the dancing. His eyes flicked over your shoulder and he smiled the faintest of smirks, so faint that you weren’t even sure you had seen it; and then he leaned in to kiss you.

You had expected a peck. Just a brief kiss before you parted ways for a bit to socialize with others. But apparently, Ethan had other things in mind, because he drew his hand to the back of your neck to hold you still and tilted his head to kiss you deeply, over and over and over, another hand running to your hip and running his tongue over your lips in a way that was barely appropriate for the public eye. You were dimly aware of the flashing of more cameras, of some whistling and giggling, before you broke apart. His eyes were burning down at you, and you were momentarily dizzy. He rarely ever kissed you like that – with so much passion and feeling, making you feel so _wanted_.

You had momentarily forgotten your irritation, and he grinned, pleased with the stunned look on your face. “I’ll come and find you later, my love,” he said, and again, you just nodded rather numbly before he touched your cheek and walked away, leaving you to turn around to see if you could locate your friends. Draco and Theo were still standing by the drinks table, but Daphne and Pansy had joined them. Pansy was grinning at you mischievously, clearly amused by your public display of affection, but the others were not looking in your direction, though you noted that pink patches had appeared on Draco’s face and his eyes were stormy again. You wondered if, in the time that you had been dancing, someone had been bothering him like earlier today. 

You hurried over to join them.

“Hi,” you said breathlessly.

“There she is,” said Pansy in a sing song voice, clearly drunk, and you smiled.

“You throw a hell of a party, Parkinson,” you said. “But my buzz from the champagne at your place earlier is starting to wear off. Stupid reporters and stupid dancing. Pass me a drink.”

Pansy giggled, flicking her wand, and a glass of champagne flew into your hand. “Oh yes,” she said sardonically, “You seemed to be having an _awful_ time over there.” She wiggled her eyebrows at you, and there was a tiny cough from your right. You thought it might have come from Daphne, and you also thought you may have seen her shake her head the tiniest bit at Pansy, but then it was over and you were already taking a long drink.

“I hate bloody reporters,” you muttered, and then turned to Theo. “Haven’t seen you in a few days, Theo. How are you?”

He shrugged. “The usual. The loner at a big party wanting to go home but can’t, because of political reasons. Not much has changed.”

“Except at _these_ parties,” drawled Draco, and glancing up at him you saw that his eyes were just as hazy, if not more so, than Pansy’s. “Half the people here hate us. Except Y/N, of course.” He raised his glass to you, a smile playing across his lips, but it seemed strangely cold, and you had the distinct feeling that you had upset or angered him. The smile didn’t reach his eyes. “But that’s a perk of shagging a famous Quidditch star, I suppose.”

You blinked, shocked at his blunt words and trying to decide just how offended you should be; a collective intake of breath went around the group, but before you could react, Daphne had spoken up. “Draco,” she said, very quietly, eyeing the glass in his hand. “I think you’ve had enough.”

“Somehow I don’t think so,” he muttered darkly, his eyes narrowing at something over your shoulder.

“Hey,” a voice said, and Ethan had suddenly appeared next to you again.

Draco scowled into his drink, and you tore your eyes away from him, surprised at his open hostility, and smiled up at your boyfriend while the others greeted him back. “Nice game last weekend,” Theo was saying to him, and Draco shot Theo a furtive look of disdain.

“Thanks, mate,” said Ethan jovially. “Wish this one would have been there to see it.” He tugged you in closer to his side, his fingers gripping your hip tightly as he smiled down at you. “I always ask her to come traveling with me – we’d have so much fun on the beaches of France, darling...” He made a show of tucking your hair behind your ear.

“I have a job, Ethan, I told you I need more notice than one week,” you muttered, embarrassed he was bringing this up right now and having to fight to keep yourself from flinching away.

He laughed. “Bartending? That’s adorable, love, but I’m _sure_ you could take some time away.”

You frowned, as you always did when he had a subtle go at your job. You knew it wasn’t much, but you liked it, and your boss counted on you because it was a small business. Besides, having reporters follow you for your whole vacation because it was for Quidditch did not sound appealing.

“She doesn’t want to go without us,” joked Daphne, smiling at you encouragingly, and you sent her a grateful smile for glossing it all over as she always did.

Pansy giggled and raised her glass. “Yes! J’mepelle… _Pansy_!”

“God, you were always terrible at French,” said Theo, wrinkling his nose.

”And you,” she said, pointing an unsteady finger at him as Daphne giggled, “Were always a massive snob, _Theodore_.” She emphasized Theodore with a horrid French accent, which only made Daphne and Theo double over and laugh harder.

Ethan was grinning, but then he turned to you and said, “I was just coming to say I would pop outside for a bit. I found some gents willing to share some top notch cigars.”

“Have fun,” you said, and he pecked you once more on the lips, lingering a moment longer than usual before departing.

“Okay but,” started Pansy, “Can we actually make this France thing happen? Draco, don’t you have relatives down there or something?”

Draco rolled his eyes. “Believe me, we don’t want to stay there unless my relatives die. Y/N,” he said suddenly, his gaze flicking to you and looking at you very intently, “Care to dance?” He held out his hand.

Part of you wanted to tell him to fuck off, particularly after his comment earlier. But you allowed him to lead you away and out onto the dance floor. When you had arrived, he placed one hand on your waist and kept the other clasped with yours; you put your other hand on his shoulder and you both began to move in time to the music.

Draco was an easy dance partner. You had grown up learning to dance mostly with him, after all, and so you knew his patterns and his steps, his mannerisms. And so you knew enough about him to tell that he was incredibly tense, and also more than a little drunk. You were incredibly aware of just how close you were to him; which was nothing new, really. How many times had you been close with him? Danced with him, sat beside him, even slept in the same bed? But this felt different, somehow. The place where his hand was resting on your hip tingled, and you were rather nervous to look into his face.

After some time, he spoke in a voice that was a low, stuttered mumble. “You look beautiful tonight.”

“Thanks.” You couldn’t help the hardness in your voice.

He heard it, because he leaned back slightly to look at you in the eyes. And then he smirked. Bloody git. “No compliment back?”

“If you’re going to embarrass me with mean comments tonight, then no,” you said, your voice even tighter than before, eyes narrowing at him in irritation.

He averted his eyes guiltily, and you heard him let out a little sigh. His grip on your hand tightened, squeezing a few times. “I’m sorry. All right?”

“Whatever, Draco,” you snapped. “I don’t know what your problem is today.”

He pulled you closer. You were hyper aware of every point where his body was touching yours as you spun and twirled together. He leaned down to murmur in your ear, “I know. It’s just…this Gala. These people. All of the _looks_ I keep getting. I’m sorry, Y/N. Really, I am.”

You softened a little, remembering what Daphne had said about how he was having a hard time lately. You thought about how you had spent less time with him since you and Ethan had gotten together, and how now, after the war and with a hostile public, he probably needed you more than ever.

“Draco, listen…” you began, leaning back to look at him, but something about the look on his face rendered you momentarily speechless. His eyes were intense, burning into yours with something in them that, for some reason, made it difficult to breathe. But you didn’t have time to say anything else, because something distracted you from the dance and the conversation.

All of the sudden, the lights went out.

And then, a single light, illuminating one figure on the stage. It was impossible to tell who they were. They were wearing a cloak of scarlet, and a mask to match it; and when they spoke, in a magically amplified voice, it was distorted and clearly tampered with.

Draco turned with you and you clutched his arm tightly, forgetting how to breathe yet again but now for a different reason entirely.

“The Purebloods have been a parasite in our society,” the strange voice said maliciously. “They say they have changed, but we do not believe them.”

A pause, long and terrible. Your grip on Draco’s arm tightened even more. You feared you would hyperventilate.

Small pops of sound could be heard all around the room. The room was suddenly flooded with light once more; blinking and squinting in the sudden brightness, it took you a moment to see the figures who had appeared.

More scarlet cloaks, dispersed throughout the crowd, menacing in their masks.

“And you know what we do with parasites?” the figure said, and you could practically hear the smile in its voice. “We exterminate them.”

They rose their wands.

Lights began to flash. Screams erupted through the room, among the sounds of crashing tables, shattering glass. The Gala began to disintegrate into complete and utter chaos.

Into a battle.


	5. 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which all hell breaks loose at the Ministry Gala.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warnings: sexual content (be aware it is right at the beginning!!), language, violence, injuries.
> 
> As always, thank you so much to those reading and I hope you enjoy this one!

It took Ethan longer than it should have to hear the screams coming from the ballroom. In his defense, that was because someone was already practically screaming right in his ear, clawing at his back as he balanced her on the edge of the bathroom counter and thrust into her. 

At some point, however, his brain distinguished the sounds of the other screams in the building.

And they did not sound pleasant.

In fact – 

He paused his movements, and the woman whimpered, pointedly trying to arch her hips into his and get him to resume his actions.

He ignored her.

It sounded like…a duel. At least, there were crashes, and screams, and the sounds of things shattering…

“Keep fucking me,” the woman whined, rotating her hips again.

He ignored her further, merely looking distractedly at the door to the bathroom. “Do you hear that?” he asked tensely. “Sounds like – ”

“Whatever it is, it won’t do us any good to go out there now, will it?” she cut in. “Might as well just finish what we started.” She grinned seductively, beginning once more to move her pelvis in rhythmic, purposeful movements.

Ethan groaned, unable to resist slowly meeting her pace once more. “My girlfriend is out there,” he panted, reluctantly speeding up and clutching the woman’s hips tightly.

The woman smiled wider. “Then you’d better hurry, hot stuff.”

* * *

In an instant, everything at the party was chaos.

The room filled with flashes of light, with red and blue and purple and white sparks. Some hit their targets and people crumpled to the floor; others hit glasses or chairs or tables, sending drinks and glass and furniture flying. People were screaming, or sobbing, sprinting as fast as they could toward the congested exit, while others had their wands out and were desperately deflecting curses.

Draco yanked you closer to his side. “Under the table,” he commanded roughly in your ear. “Come on, quickly – ”

But a figure had suddenly spotted the both of you. You saw how their mask turn to face you, as if in slow motion, and saw his gaze lock on Draco.

_That blonde hair – you’re a Malfoy – I’d know you anywhere_ …

The words of the man earlier today jumped through your head, and a cloud of panic filled you so quickly and intensely that for a few brief seconds you became dizzy. Draco and Pansy had been targeted _before_ this. They were in particular danger tonight. And so, when the figure began to raise their wand, you reacted on pure instinct, drawing your wand and shouting, “ _Stupefy_!”

They flew backward, slamming into a table with a loud crash, before falling forward to lie completely still on the ground. 

“Y/N!”

It was Daphne’s voice, and when you looked up you saw that she, Pansy, and Theo were running toward you. Draco had also drawn his wand in the time you had sent the curse, and he was staring at the now unconscious attacker with a hard look on his face; the others too had their wands out, and gathered around you, looking around in a sort of nervous panic. Witches and wizards jostled your group as they tried to run by – by now, the exit was blocked, and there were only two real options: hide, or fight. 

And it seemed that the first option was gone now too.

Because just then, Daphne gasped and pointed; to your horror, a group of six of the masked figures were sprinting toward your group of friends, probably having seen and heard one of their own being blasted into the table and no doubt recognizing you as a group of all Purebloods.

_We should have split up_ , you realized desperately. _We’re an obvious group of sitting ducks standing here like this, and now it’s too late._

“Expelliarmus!” 

Draco’s voice rang out from beside you, loud and clear and harsh, breaking the terrible suspended moment of uncertainty and fear, the surreal moment where you had all watched your attackers advancing as if in a trance.

Now it had broken, and all of the sudden the five of you were shooting jinxes and curses and hexes as quickly as you possibly could. But it was particularly difficult to aim under the influence of all the alcohol. Pansy, for example, was firing one curse after another, teeth bared, but had yet to hit anything; not to mention that all the women had the added disadvantage of wearing high heels. When a particularly nasty looking jet of purple light came at Daphne, she nearly twisted her ankle trying to dodge out of the way, and much the same was happening to you whenever you tried to maneuver into a proper fighting stance to throw a curse.

It was all you could do to avoid getting hit, especially because you were outnumbered. One of the figures was laughing now, shooting red sparks over and over at Pansy, one curse after the other, and she hopped from side to side, desperately trying to avoid or block them. Daphne was trying to Stun him away from her girlfriend, but she had her own duel partner to contend with, while Theo was gallantly battling two at the same time with mostly wordless spells, leaving you and Draco each with an enemy to try and take down.

Wands were slashing through the air, jets of light were flying, illuminating the air with smoke and flashes that were nearly blinding and made things that much more confusing; and then, just as you dove behind a chair to barely avoid a nasty-looking curse from your opponent, there was a terrible scream.

Your head snapped over, recognizing it as Pansy’s scream, and you felt your heart stop in your chest as you watched a jet of purple light hit Daphne directly in the chest. She crumpled to the ground.

“DAPHNE!” you screamed, and though yours had been loud and shrill it was nothing to Pansy’s shriek of pain and fear and rage.

Time seemed to stop again; it was if _you_ had been hit in the chest, like you were falling – she could not be dead, no, _no_ , you would not believe it – 

Draco took your hand and pulled you to the ground, ducking the both of you out of the way of a spell that had been shot at you, taking advantage of your distraction. There could be no pauses in battle. You had never truly been in one before, but now you knew. You felt tears burning in your eyes, and your chest was on fire, but you sprang up again, wand at the ready.

They were going to pay for this.

Theo had leaped to the side to stand next to Pansy, holding her steady and blocking every curse that came her way; he had taken down one of his own opponents and so now there were three targeting Theo and Pansy, who were now standing back to back and shooting hexes with blinding speed. 

Pansy’s face was twisted in fury, an inferno blazing in her eyes and her wand slashing through the air with a reckless abandon –

One of the two figures opposite you and Draco laughed, loudly and mirthlessly. He shot a wordless spell your direction which you only just managed to block, throwing your arm up sloppily. The force of it rattling through your arm, in fact, made you fall down to your knees.

Whatever he had just tried to do to you, it was powerful. You scrambled to your feet again, jaw set despite wobbling on your heels on the way up.

“Take off those bloody shoes,” Draco growled at you, jabbing his arm out to launch another curse, which his duel partner blocked easily, almost lazily.

“Oh yes, let me just pause real quick to do that,” you snapped back.

“The Malfoy boy,” one of the figures jeered, and they both laughed maliciously, simultaneously sending sparks of red light that you and Draco blocked with flicks of your wand and no small amount of effort. “Once we’re through with you, your mother will be burying your body, boy – ”

“STUPEFY!” Draco roared furiously, but the man blocked it once more and sent another spell at him so quickly that you could only watch, raising your wand hand to try and help, to protect him…

And your opponent, seizing the opportunity, flicked their wand at you. It was a wordless spell, and the burst of light was red, but it was no Stunning spell. It _whooshed_ through the room almost like a physical presence, and it sounded curiously like the crackling of a fireplace. You had been so concentrated on Draco’s duel, on the threat to his life, that you were too late in raising your wand to block it or even leap out of the way.

But then you heard Draco shout, “ _Protego_!”

He was turned toward you, casting a shield that illuminated out of his wand tip and which hovered in front of you, effectively blocking the spell. There was a loud, reverberating noise as the magic in the air collided.

And then, like lightning, the other man flicked his wand at Draco, and this time, that same spell hit his target, for Draco was unable to defend himself.

He dropped to his knees, but he was still very much conscious, and he was yelling. Yelling, in fact, like he was on fire. The scream that left your mouth was more terrible than before; you nearly forgot the two men across from you, nearly forgot everything else except for the pain twisting Draco’s face and the horrible, agonized sounds he was making as he clutched at his abdomen.

But your opponents were still there, and now they had hurt Daphne and Draco. A wild fury burned through your veins, seizing your lungs and launching you into a vicious tirade; you threw curses over and over, dodging to the side and ducking deftly as you went, and the yells of your best friend beside you simultaneously cutting through you like knives and serving as the thing that propelled you forward, to make these people _bleed_ –

A white jet of light hit one of them square in the chest, but it hadn’t come from you. Glancing to your side, you saw that it had Theo, his mouth twisted into a menacing grimace and his face scrunched in fury. Pansy, too, was running over, her face resolute and pale, her eyes fixed in horror on Draco.

“Help him!” she screeched at you. “ _Go_ , Y/N – ”

You obeyed immediately, not wanting to waste any more time. With only one opponent left for Theo and Pansy to tackle, at least for now, you had to take the opportunity to heal him; if he could be healed.

Feeling very much as if you were in a terrible nightmare, you hurried to Draco’s side and dropped to your knees beside him, grasping at his shoulders and feeling the tears begin to pour down your face at how much anguish you saw in his eyes. “What is it?” you cried out. “Draco, what’s happening?”

“My - stomach…” he panted, squirming from side to side, and you could see that his face was starting to take on a tinge of gray. Your stomach rolled, and your mind went numb with panic. You weren’t particularly adept at healing spells, especially when you didn’t know exactly what he had been hit with. “It b-burns,” he continued, barely able to choke out the words. “ _Please_ …”

“Okay,” you said, your voice shrill with panic although you tried to disguise it so that he wouldn’t hear. “O-okay, I-I’ll look – everything will be fine – ”

“D-Diffindo,” you gasped, blinking back tears and the lump of panic in your throat, and his shirt ripped immediately in two so that you had access to his abdomen. It was a fiery red, and the skin was blistering.

“Oh _Merlin_ ,” you whispered, horrified. The spell was scalding him, as if invisible hot water were being poured over him.

“ _Please_!” he begged, desperately, and the fear in his voice – you had never heard him like this, never heard him beg nor seen his face screwed up in quite so much pain – jolted your brain into action.

You began waving your wand over him, performing wordless spells that you hoped would stop the sensation of scalding and begin to heal him. The first three didn’t seem to work; frustrated, and having completely forgot about the dying remnants of the battle around you, you pressed on, waving your wand, now murmuring incantations as quickly as you possibly could, your voice shaky and hesitant.

His body went still, and your heart stopped. Glancing up, you saw that his eyes were closed; he had fallen unconscious from the pain.

“Shit,” you whispered, tears still running over your cheeks, but you didn’t stop. You continued waving your wand, trying spell after spell after spell, racking your brains to try and remember if this had ever been mentioned in your classes…

And finally, you saw the blistering stop spreading. The redness, too, stopped spreading up toward his ribs, though his entire stomach and part of his rib cage was now this glaring red color, and most of it was also covered in blisters. You had done it, but you were unsure if it was too late.

“Y/N?” Theo’s voice sounded beside you, and you heard him fall to his knees beside you. You looked at him, eyes wide in terror, and saw that he was examining his friend carefully.

“Was I too late, Theo?” you whispered. Your voice was thick from holding back sobs, but you were only partially successful. Now that it was over, the horrors were catching up with you, and the wave of panic threatened to drown you. 

“I don’t think so,” muttered Theo, frowning as he examined Draco’s abdomen.

Hurriedly, you looked around the room. The figures were gone. They must have Apparated away, which you found odd enough in itself. Security would have prevented Apparation in and outside the building, just as at Hogwarts, so how had they escaped? There were bodies lying around on the floor – how many were dead or merely unconscious, you did not know. Nor did you really want to. Tables were overturned, and chunks of things such as chairs, glass, and the beautiful decorations were strewn about.

Your eyes fell anxiously on Pansy some feet away.

She was clutching Daphne’s arm, crying. Pansy hardly ever cried.

A cold fear swept over you, and for a moment you couldn’t speak.

“She’s alive,” said Theo, and you looked over, chest tight, to see him looking at you. “I think it was a close call, though. Same with him.” He nodded toward Draco. “What spell was it? I’ve never seen anything like this…”

“Me neither,” you whispered, rather hoarsely. “It was like burning water was being poured on him, or – or something similar. It was slowly scalding him, Theo. And I…” Your voice trembled. “I took too long! What if – ”

“He’s going to be fine,” said Theo firmly, pulling you comfortingly into his side. “Just like Daphne. He’ll need to go to St. Mungo’s and get a salve, and it will heal. You did just fine, Y/N, really. And look – the Healers are here now.”

And indeed they were. They were bustling about the room, collecting those lying around and the injured to deliver them to the hospital as quickly as possible. You saw that one of them was talking gently to a hysterical Pansy, and another was levitating Daphne with their wand. Theo signaled frantically to a free one from across the room, and she began to hurry over to you.

“My boy! Draco!”

Narcissa’s voice was broken, fearful, and you and Theo both stood and turned to see her practically sprinting toward you as well, her breeding and manners entirely forgotten and a positively wild look in her eyes. “What’s happened? Is he – ?”

“He’s okay,” you assured her shakily, and the poor woman clutched at your arms and swayed, enormously relieved. “But he needs to go to St. Mungo’s.”

“Yes, he most certainly does,” said the Healer from behind you, who had now reached Draco and was examining his skin. “This was an incredibly nasty curse. We’re going to have to take him now, Mrs. Malfoy…”

“Yes, of – of course,” whispered Narcissa, tears filling her eyes and covering her hand with her mouth in an attempt to bring her emotions under control. “Are you all right, dear?” she asked you quickly. “And the others?”

“Daphne will need to go to St. Mungo’s too,” answered Theo.

“But we’re just fine,” you assured her, and the woman sighed, obviously relieved beyond measure.

“Are you coming with us, Mrs. Malfoy?” The Healer was levitating Draco now; you noted how peaceful his face looked, and knew that this wasn’t going to last long. When he woke up, he would likely be in a good deal of pain.

You felt sick. Angry. Frightened.

“Of course.” Narcissa held her head high, attempting to look regal as always once more, and began walking briskly toward the Healer.

“We’ll meet you there in a few minutes,” you told her. You had yet to see Ethan, and the idea of something happening to him was excruciating, despite your irritation and uncertainty with him lately.

“Nonsense, dear, you need to rest!” said Narcissa, surprised.

“I won’t rest until I see Draco and Daphne awake,” you told her. “Theo?”

“Same,” he said. “See you soon, Mrs. Malfoy.”

Narcissa grasped the arm of the Healer. “Very well. Then I’ll see the both of you soon.” She paused. “And it’s Narcissa, Theo. You know that.”

And with that, the Healer, Draco, and Narcissa Apparated together, disappearing and leaving behind them a strange sense of emptiness and loss, despite knowing that everything was going to turn out more or less okay.

“I need to find Ethan,” you told Theo, fearfully, reaching up to brush stray tears from your cheeks with shaking fingers. “Merlin, I hope he’s all right. We can meet at St. Mungo’s if you like – it seems Pansy’s already gone, obviously – ”

“I’ll wait for you,” said Theo firmly. “I think it’s safer that way.”

A chill ran through you. He was right, of course.

It seemed that nowhere was safe anymore.

And especially not for your group of friends.

What a strange and cruel twist of fate after the years of being secure and safe in your blood statuses.

“Thank you,” you told him, gratefully, wearily leaning on him a little.

“Of course,” murmured Theo, squeezing your shoulder, and when you looked up you noted the unease in his eyes as he glanced around the room. “Now let’s find your boyfriend quickly and get over to St. Mungo’s, shall we?”


	6. Six

After nearly five minutes of scanning the crowd, you were beginning to get seriously concerned about your boyfriend. Though you had always been afraid for him, you knew that he had been outside – and you had guessed that meant he was okay. But now you were truly beginning to worry that he had come back inside before the battle had started, and something had happened to him.

It was then, however, that you heard his voice.

“Y/N!”

You spun to see him running toward you, arms out. “Ethan!” You launched forward into his arms, hugging him tightly and feeling grateful for his arms wrapping around you and holding you steady.

“Oh god, are you okay?” he breathed into your ear. “I heard the screams and everything happening from outside, but the doors were blocked – ”

“I know,” you reassured him. “I was so glad that you were probably outside. I’m just fine. The same can’t be said for Draco and Daphne, though.”

You felt him tense in your hug, and he pulled back with a frown of concern, because you hadn’t quite been able to disguise the shake in your voice. His eyes swept over you, taking in your disheveled appearance. Your hair was astray and there were bruises on your arms; he sighed, rubbing your shoulders. “What happened, love?”

“They were both hit with curses,” you whispered, looking to the floor. “They’re going to be okay, but they had to go to St. Mungo’s. I have no idea what Daphne was hit with, but she was down almost immediately, unconscious. Draco was hit with something that scalded his skin. It was awful, Ethan, I’ve never – “ You swayed a little as everything replayed in your head all over again. “Oh Merlin, I’ve never had to fight like that before – when there was the Battle at Hogwarts the Slytherins were made to stay in the dungeons, and – ”

“Hey,” he murmured, cutting off your rising hysterics with a brief kiss to the lips. “Everything is going to be fine. I’m just glad everyone made it out okay. And I’m just glad you are alive. I was so worried.” He kissed you again.

“Me too,” you told him, letting him hold you tight again.

“Let’s get you home, darling,” he told you. “This was targeted at Purebloods, wasn’t it, so you shouldn’t go anywhere alone, I think – ”

“I’m going to St. Mungo’s, Ethan,” you said, pulling back and looking at him as if he had grown another head. “Didn’t you hear me? Draco and Daphne were seriously injured, and I need to go and make sure they are going to make a full recovery – ”

“And what if someone decides to finish the job at the hospital?” Ethan asked, rather brusquely. “Y/N, it might be dangerous.”

“St. Mungo’s will be fine,” you said, waving a dismissive hand. “I’m not going to be able to relax until I check on them, Ethan. Pansy’s already there, and Theo is going to come, too.”

He gazed down at you, at the determined fire in your eyes. He sighed again, resigning himself to what you wanted. “Fine,” he said. “But then I’m coming too.”

* * *

St. Mungo’s was nearly empty when you, Theo, and Ethan arrived in the reception area, but that was to be expected at nearly two in the morning.

There were, however, a few others in the waiting room milling about, and two of these people you would have never expected to see there: none other than Harry Potter and Hermione Granger.

What was more, they seemed to have been waiting for you, because upon spotting you enter the hospital, they stood up and made a beeline for you.

“They’re in rooms 405 and 406,” said Hermione Granger. 

You blinked. You had certainly not taken Potter and Granger to care about the fates of Draco and Daphne, even if there was much less hostility there nowadays. You wanted to ask what they were doing there, but you feared that might sound rather rude. Thankfully, Theo did it for you.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, bluntly.

“We were actually waiting to speak with Narcissa Malfoy,” said Potter. “But she was understandably preoccupied – the Healer snapped at us to forget about it, actually, since they were putting salve on Malfoy – ”

“We didn’t have good timing,” Granger hastened to say. “She told us you’d be coming. We have a message that would probably be good for you all to know, and we’d appreciate it if you’d spread it to the other Purebloods. We have to get back to the Ministry tonight…don’t think we’ll be sleeping…”

“Ah fuck, all the _paperwork_ after everything else…” groaned Potter.

“ _Anyway_ ,” said Granger, shooting her best friend a look, “We were left a note, seemingly from the perpetrator.”

“Well this just keeps getting better and better,” said Theo, sarcastically.

“Yes, well. Whoever it is has made it quite clear that they are no fan of Purebloods, so we thought that we should warn you that you lot need to be careful. Best not to travel anywhere alone, and make sure there are security enchantments on your homes, all right?” she said, looking between all of you anxiously.

Something twisted in your heart. This Muggleborn had been persecuted by those of your blood status, but put in the same position, she was helping you.

Never had you wished more fervently to be born into a different family.

“Thank you so much for telling us,” you said, gratefully. You wished you could infuse everything you felt into your tone, but it was impossible. There was too much. _I’m so sorry for everything. I wish things were different. I wish we had never said or thought terrible things about you. I wish I hadn’t believed such vicious, nasty things. I wish we hadn’t been monsters._ “We’ll spread the word.”

She just gave you a small smile.

“Did the note say anything else?” Ethan asked, curious.

“Well…” Granger hesitated, glancing at Potter.

“He – I’m assuming it’s a he, I suppose, but genocidal maniacs always are, aren’t they? – anyway, he has made it quite clear that this isn’t just some little game of revenge,” said Potter, mouth pulling into a very bitter grimace. “He wants power. Specifically, he indicated that it was time for new leadership in the Wizarding World, and that things were about to change for the better. Though I highly doubt that, since this guy’s subjective opinion of _better_ is clearly utter horseshit – ”

“They know, Harry,” Granger reminded him, patting his shoulder and looking thoroughly exhausted. You noted that there were faint traces of blood under her nose, as if she had been hit there not too long ago in the battle.

“Wow, this really _does_ keep getting better and better,” said Theo bitingly. “Another dictator figure was _just_ what we needed.”

Everyone gave reluctant grins, but they slid away rather quickly, and the enormity of the situation settled on you so heavily that it was as if you felt it in your bones. The Wizarding World was at war once again. 

You had never really stopped.

You wanted to cry. Or go to sleep. Perhaps never wake up. 

Instead, you just clutched Ethan’s arms tightly and fought to keep the tears and exhaustion and fear at bay.

“Thank you,” mumbled Theo to the Gryffindors, and you nodded vigorously in assent.

“Anytime,” said Granger briskly, taking Potter’s wrist and tugging him along. “We’ve got to be getting back to the Ministry – it’s a zoo, as you can imagine – but if you need any help or have any information, you can always stop by the Ministry or send as an owl – ”

“Bye,” the three of you chorused, and with that, Granger and Potter were gone.

“405 and 406,” you said immediately. “Let’s go.”

The elevator seemed to take ages, but once there, you all hovered outside the doors, unsure how to go about it. “I’ll check on Daphne first?” offered Theo, glancing at you uncertainly.

You nodded. “I’ll see Draco, then.” You looked to your boyfriend, who leaned against the opposite wall. “I’ll just wait outside,” he said, eyes sweeping over your face. “Send him my best.”

You squeezed his hand. “Thank you,” you murmured, and with that, you entered Draco’s room tentatively, rather afraid of what you might see.

Narcissa was there, sitting beside his bedside and smoothing the hair back from his forehead and murmuring something to him quietly. Draco wasn’t sleeping, and his eyes were half-closed in a relaxed sort of way, listening to whatever his mother was saying to him. The sight made you smile.

When you had been very young children, you vividly remembered your group of friends teasing Draco whenever he had been injured and had ran to his mother to be comforted. Personally, you had always wished that you would have had a mother like Narcissa to run to so you could be babied, at least just a little. While Narcissa may seem cold to outsiders, she was always full of warmth for her son, even at this age, and you knew she would do literally anything for him.

He was pale, even paler than usual, and the covers were not over his upper chest so you could see that nearly his entire front side was covered in bandages. Every so often, you saw him wince a little in pain when he breathed. You swallowed hard, feeling suddenly extremely guilty.

“Hi,” you said, a little breathlessly.

Narcissa half turned in her seated position to look at you and give you a tired but friendly smile; Draco’s eyes snapped to yours.

“Y/N,” greeted Narcissa kindly. “Is your boyfriend all right?”

“Yes,” you said. “He’s just fine. Thank you.”

She withdrew her hand and rose to her feet. “Now that you’re here to give my son some company I’ll go and have a tea.” On the way out, she lightly brushed your shoulder with the hand, giving it a quick pat, and you took your place by your best friend’s bedside.

“If you weren’t already in the hospital I’d injure you myself, you know,” you told him, raising an eyebrow at him and smiling a little.

He smiled back, amused but tired. “Any particular reason?”

“You blocked the spell for me and made yourself vulnerable to attack. That was idiotic and unnecessary, Draco.” You tried to sound stern, but you couldn’t quite manage it. He just chuckled, shifting himself on the pillows a little, and though you suspected he was trying to hide it, you noticed how much he was grimacing in pain at the movements. A pang hit your chest.

You hated this. You wished there was something you could do.

He shrugged (another wince), and merely looked at you very intently in the eyes before saying, “I’d do it again. So go on, injure me then. Or will you at least wait for these to heal and until I’m out of here?”

You sighed and reached for his hand. “Oh, shut up. And thank you. But I still think you’re a bloody idiot, and if you ever pull something like that again - ”

“Let’s just hope there’s not a next time,” he interjected, squeezing your hand.

“I know,” you whispered, biting your lip. “How are you feeling? Does it hurt? It looked awful when I was trying to heal it – god, I’m so sorry, I did the best I could, but I probably made things worse since I was so slow, and I – ”

“Be quiet,” he advised, squeezing your hand tightly again. “You did well. And it’s…well, not comfortable.” He looked away from your face, down to your hand on his, and deliberately laced your fingers with his. This simple gesture, for some reason, made your heart shoot into your throat and your cheeks warm the slightest bit. “But,” he continued, “The Healer put on a salve and will be putting it on every couple of hours. I’m supposed to get a Sleeping Draught soon, so…at least I won’t feel it for a while. Have you heard about Daphne?”

“Theo went there first and I came here,” you said, feeling dread all over again. How often would you feel this in this never-ending night? “So I haven’t heard anything. Oh Merlin, what is it, Draco? Is she – ”

“She’s fine,” he interrupted quickly. “Or well, she will be. She hasn’t woken up yet, but they said she will tomorrow morning. The curse just took a lot out of her, pretty much just drained her of all functioning. Like a mini coma. But after she wakes up, they said there shouldn’t be any side effects.”

“Oh, thank goodness,” you breathed, slumping a little in your chair. “This is…” You couldn’t quite find the words to describe it.

“Messed up? A sick version of karma for our sins and stupid beliefs as teenagers?” Draco suggested dryly.

“All of the above,” you agreed, nodding fervently. “And…it gets worse.”

You saw his eyes widen a little, and a hint of panic form in his gray eyes when they looked at yours. “How could this get worse?” he asked, frowning.

You hesitated. “Maybe I should wait until tomorrow, when you’ve rested…”

“Oh, _hell_ no,” he complained, shaking his head and hissing in pain at the slight movement it did to his body. “You will not drop bait like that and then not explain what you are talking about, Y/N, come on – ”

You laughed a little. “Okay, okay! Well. Um. When we got here, Potter and Granger were waiting for us in the waiting room. They had tried to speak to your mother, but she wouldn’t leave you, of course, so they passed the message along to us…”

“What message?” he asked, quietly. His grip on your hand was extremely tight, almost painfully so, but you didn’t complain.

“They were…sent a note. Or found it. Or something. Anyway, the note basically outlines this person’s plan to sort of…seize power in the Wizarding World. Sounds like he’s planning an uprising, and they wanted to tell us that he also _explicitly_ said something about Purebloods. They said we shouldn’t go anywhere alone and that we should check the security on our homes.”

There was a long silence as he stared at you, aghast. “Holy fuck, that is a _lot_ worse,” he agreed finally, voice slightly hoarse.

“I know,” you said, fretting. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have – ”

“Stop apologizing,” he told you, rolling his eyes and grinning. “It’s confusing, especially when you just threatened to injure me and called me an idiot not even five minutes ago. You’re giving me whiplash.”

You giggled a little. “I’m not great at visiting in hospitals, am I? Remember in sixth year, after the Sectumsempra? I spilled Bertie Botts all over you and they were everywhere in your bed.”

He chuckled. “One of them even got into my socks, believe it or not. But on the contrary, Y/N,” he mused, running his thumb over your hand almost absentmindedly, but it again made your heart palpitate strangely against your chest, “You’re my favorite visitor.”

There was a long moment where you stared at each other, and that _thing_ in his eyes was back. It was the same look that had been there while you were dancing, just before the chaos had started, and you had been so aware of how close he had been to you, and that something was fundamentally _different_ –

You cleared your throat and glanced away. “I don’t have to leave,” you told him. “I can stay here through the night.”

“No. You should get some rest,” he urged. “Daphne and I will just be sleeping anyway. But please, Y/N, whatever you do, especially after what you just told me, just…don’t do anything alone, all right? In fact, I’ll talk to Theo. I’ll make sure that he never leaves your side, and maybe you can stay with him. That way you’ll both be – ”

“Actually, I was thinking she should stay with me.” Ethan’s voice sounded from the doorway, and Draco’s eyes darted over at the same time that you jolted around to see him standing there, eyeing the pair of you. You withdrew your hand from Draco’s, and you saw Ethan’s eyes follow the motion. However, he looked back over to Draco and said, courteously enough, “How are you feeling? Y/N told me you got hit with a real nasty one.”

Draco gaped at him momentarily, and then seemed to recover himself. “Erm – yeah,” he said, a little uncertainly. “But I’m…fine. Sort of. Thanks.”

Ethan gave him a brief smile, a bit perfunctory, but not entirely unfriendly, and then turned to you. “Theo is waiting outside,” he told you. “Daphne won’t be waking up tonight, it seems, so after you go in and see Pansy I think I should take you to my place. That will be safest, don’t you think?”

You hesitated. “What about Theo? He shouldn’t be alone either.”

Ethan nodded. “Of course, love. He can stay in my guest room.”

Ethan was being much more agreeable than usual, you thought. But you guessed that he probably knew not to throw a fit over little things after such a stressful and terrible evening. Perhaps he was going to be better. It filled you with a sense of relief, and you nodded, standing up. “I’m going to check on Pansy, then,” you said. “Good night, Draco. Sleep well. I’ll be here early in the morning, okay?”

“Okay,” he said, smiling at you as you walked to the door. You looked questioningly at Ethan.

“I’ll meet you in the hall after,” he told you, and just gave a smile that clearly told you to go with it. You glanced between he and Draco, a bit perplexed at this newfound friendliness (not, however, in a bad way), and then shrugged before leaving to go to the neighboring room and visit your other friends.

As soon as you were gone, Ethan’s smile disappeared, and he turned to Draco with his arms folded. “I’d like to remind you, Malfoy,” he said, in a tone very different from the one that he had used while you had been present and that could have easily been described as threatening, “That while she may defend you and think it’s just friendly, I think its bullocks. I know _exactly_ what you want. My friendly message, mate?” He leered at Draco, the complete opposite of “friendly.” “Give it up. I do not take kindly to other men trying to take whats mine.”

Draco kept his face carefully impassive, even though his blood was boiling in his body and he wanted nothing more than to take his wand and hex this man into an alternate universe. Seeing as he was injured and unable to move (which, he was sure, was why Ethan felt brave enough to pull this stunt right now), he couldn’t use anything but his words.

“First of all,” he said, his tone acidic, “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Secondly, and because we _are_ friends, and have been for a long time, I feel obliged to tell you that she’s a _person_ , not something that is yours. And she won’t take kindly to you trying to alienate her from a childhood friend over your jealousy. Insecurity doesn’t look good on you… _mate_.” He gave him a challenging smile.

Ethan’s brow furrowed, and for a moment he looked as if he wanted to take out his wand; it was clearly on his mind, for his fingers twitched slightly toward his robes, but he just glared at the blonde one more time before turning to go. He was at the door, however, when Draco spoke up again.

“Oh, and I almost forgot,” he drawled, as the Quidditch star stopped short and turned to look at him again, shoulders tense with irritation. “I have one more message for you.” He raised an eyebrow, and though he was so angry that he could hardly contain it, he still somehow managed to keep his face neutral. “My mother told me something very curious. You see, during the attacks, _she_ happened to be outside. She said that those people that were outside and anxious to get to their loved ones were in a group waiting by the door, waiting to get in…it’s why she was so late to get to me, you see.” 

He smiled a little, relishing the look of sudden panic that had come onto the other man’s face. “But _strangely_ , she told me that you weren’t out there. It’s almost as if you were lying to Y/N about where you had gone – but you wouldn’t do such a thing to her, would you?” There was no disguising the anger now, nor the threat in his voice. He didn’t care if he was technically the invalid in a hospital bed. He didn’t care that it was hurting him to sit up like this at the moment, either.

Ethan’s fists were clenched at his sides. “Your mother must be blind,” he retorted, with an air of forced calm. “I was there.”

“I hope for your sake that’s true,” said Draco, and his tone became darker, and menacing. “Because let me tell you something, broom boy: I was a terrible Death Eater because I didn’t quite have the stomach for murder. But if I find out that you are doing something that would hurt Y/N in any way, shape, or form, I’m sure I could find my appetite for it. Because you see, for her, I _would_ kill without hesitation.”

“Are you threatening me, Malfoy?” Ethan hissed, stepping forward rapidly.

“What’s going on?” 

Theo was in the doorway, frowning at the scene in front of him, clearly not oblivious to the angry tension in the air or the fact that Ethan was now breathing like a winded rhinoceros. “Just a chat between mates,” drawled Draco casually, looking away from Ethan and to his friend. “Nothing to worry about.”

Without another word, Ethan turned on his heel and exited the room, seething.

“What did you do?” sighed Theo.

“Do you trust him?” asked Draco abruptly, desperately needing another opinion and having no other option but to discuss it now, with Theo, even though he knew Theo rather liked him. “Do you think he’s…” He hesitated. “I don’t know, capable of being one of the people under those masks?”

“ _What_?” Theo seemed genuinely shocked as he approached Draco’s bedside. “No. I don’t. Look, the guy might not like you, Draco, but he’s just threatened. He wouldn’t do anything to hurt others like that. Besides, what would he have to gain from being one of those people? He has it all, doesn’t he? He’s a sports star, he’s got money, fame, a girl. Why would he want to change things?”

Draco, having no response and having to admit that Theo had a point, just frowned and sank back into his pillows, wincing as he did so.

It was going to be a long, painful night.


	7. Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Reader has a very bad day, and the group receives some terrible news.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warnings: language

Draco woke up slowly the next morning, his vision bleary. 

He blinked rapidly to try and adjust to waking, which he most decidedly did _not_ want to do, and he noted instantly that his mother was no longer in the room. She had been sleeping fitfully by his bedside the entire night, but he supposed that she must have gone off to grab breakfast while he was still sleeping.

The pain in his abdomen was excruciating. He needed a potion, and now.

Scowling, arm shaking and teeth clenched from the effort and from the agony, he reached over and pressed the button on his bedside to call a Healer to his room.

As he was doing so, he saw a stack of magazines on the bedside table, presumably brought there from the Healers for his mother; or perhaps they were thought for him. If that were the case, he thought irritably, they really didn’t know what sort of reading material to bring him, because they were bloody gossip and entertainment magazines. And – hold on –

Squinting a little, he saw the cover of the one on top more clearly and felt a horrible dropping sensation in his stomach. 

There you were, kissing Ethan deeply right on the cover, when that bloody _twat_ had done it precisely to irritate Draco; he had seen Ethan look at him and smirk before doing it.

The headline read: **Quidditch Hero and Girlfriend Stronger Than Ever!!!**

Draco let out a strange sound, something between a growl and a choking gasp, and he was seriously considering reaching over to take the magazine and rip it up into tiny pieces despite the damage that it might cause his injuries to do so when he heard a friendly woman’s voice in the room.

“How are you feeling today, Mr. Malfoy?” asked the Healer that had just bustled into the room. “You sound like you’re in pain.”

“I am,” snapped Draco, glaring at her. “I need pain potion, and for the love of Merlin, get this stack of bloody trash out of my sight.” He gestured brusquely to the magazines, and the Healer blinked, surprised.

“Of course,” she murmured, still looking rather bemused, but she immediately picked up the stack of magazines, said, “I’ll be right back with some pain medicine for you, Mr. Malfoy. Hold tight," and exited the room.

In response, Draco merely grunted irritably and sank back into his pillows, flinching.

What a start to the morning.

* * *

It was already mid morning, and you were late.

Shit, shit, shit.

You had wanted to be at the hospital early, before Daphne and Draco woke up, but it had been a chaotic morning. Ethan did not have enough food in his fridge, and so Theo had had to go out to fetch breakfast; Ethan was preparing to leave for the weekend for a Quidditch match in Poland, and had tried to use Theo’s limited time out of the house to seduce you into sex, which you had adamantly refused and which had instantly soured his mood; then, Theo ended up taking longer than expected, due to what he claimed were “long lines”, though Theo rarely got out and about in London and you highly suspected that he had gotten lost on a simple walk of a few blocks and was merely too embarrassed to say so.

After the three of you had finally gotten ready, had breakfast, and were ready to head out the door, your patience was wearing thin. You hadn’t gotten much sleep the night before, after all, and it felt like all of your nerves were fraying and were being tested this morning as much as possible. To top it all off, you had a shift later that day, and work was the very last thing you felt you could handle right now, but if you skipped a shift, you wouldn’t be able to pay your bills.

Ethan kissed you goodbye and headed off in a different direction once outside the house, still a little bit miffed with you, if his stiff smile upon departing was any indication; and you sighed, thinking that you had just been so excited to see that he had been growing up a little bit. 

To make matters worse, when you arrived at the hospital and you went first to Daphne’s room and Theo to Draco’s, Pansy was sitting in the chair and crying, and a Healer was in the room with her.

Daphne, ominously, was not awake.

“But you said she would wake up this morning,” Pansy was sobbing, near hysterics. She was covering her mouth but she couldn’t quite suppress the horrible, choked sounds that she was making, nearly unable to breathe due to crying so hard. “Why not? _You said she would be_!”

“Oh Pansy,” you gasped, distressed, rushing over to her immediately and wrapping your arms around her, holding her while she cried and letting the tears escape your own eyes as well. Your gaze drifted over Daphne on the bed. She looked peaceful, even pristine, but the fact that she was yet to wake made you want to throw up the very delicious breakfast that Theo had (finally) brought you.

Pansy clung to you like a lifeline. You had never once seen her lose control like this, and it frightened you very badly, though you knew it was unwise to show it.

“We’re sorry, Miss Parkinson,” the Healer said urgently, looking very distressed. “Miss Greengrass will wake, I assure you…we just may have underestimated the time it will take for her body to recover – ”

“I don’t want excuses, just FIX HER!” screamed Pansy, using all of the air in her lungs on the last two words. You wouldn’t be surprised if she had woken the entire floor, and possibly other floors, too.

“Pansy,” you shushed her gently. “They’re doing the best they can – ”

“DON’T!” she shrieked, and then buried her face in your shoulder, sobbing harder.

You shot the Healer an apologetic look, and he just shared your gaze, looking extremely downcast. “We truly are sorry, Miss…?”

“Y/L/N,” you finished for him. “Please, just give us some answers if you have them, to the best of your ability. When is the estimated wake up time now?”

“We aren’t sure,” he admitted carefully, and Pansy let out another wail, muffled by your shirt. You were quite sure it was going to be soaked in about ten seconds. 

Slowly, you rocked Pansy back and forth in a comforting manner, petting her hair, and said to the Healer over her head, “So you have no estimates? At all?”

“Less than a month is all we can say,” was all he said, uncomfortably.

Another scream of despair left Pansy’s mouth, and you felt as if the floor had fallen out beneath your feet. You were infinitely glad you were sitting down. Her nails were digging into your flesh so deeply that they brought even more tears to your eyes than were already there, but you struggled to hold onto your control.

“Pansy? Y/N?” Theo was in the doorway, frowning. His eyes flicked to Daphne, still lying in the bed and clearly not awake; he saw Pansy clinging desperately to you, having lost all control; and he saw the tears streaming down your cheeks.

By the look on his face, he seemed to put the pieces together.

“It’s going to take longer for her to wake than thought, Theo,” you told him anyway, rubbing Pansy’s back carefully. “They don’t know how long yet. Less than a month.”

“Fuck,” he whispered, his horrified gaze wandering over to Daphne again.

“Miss Y/L/N? A word?” The Healer was looking at you pointedly. “Outside?”

“Oh. Um. Sure. Theo, can you…?” You gestured to Pansy.

“Yeah. ‘Course,” he said, and hurried forward to take on the role of anchor for his friend as you stood to follow the Healer outside. “You should go see Draco before coming back,” he murmured to you as you passed him. “He’s awake, and Narcissa went back to the Manor to get some sleep after he begged her to, so I think he’d like your company for a few minutes. Also, we heard the er – screaming – ”

“Got it,” you told him wearily. “I’ll be back soon.”

While Theo settled in to hold Pansy, you followed the Healer out into the hall, trying to keep the sickening fears at bay that he was about to tell you something awful, something that he didn’t want to say in front of Pansy. But he couldn’t say it, he _couldn’t_ , because if you lost Daphne…

“Please don’t tell me you have even worse news about Daphne that I have to deliver to Pansy,” you begged as soon as you were outside the door.

“No, Miss Y/L/N,” he replied, and you nearly collapsed to the floor in relief. “But I am very concerned for Miss Parkinson. She has not slept, as you may have guessed from the dark bags under her eyes. We fear that she is in shock, and we want to give her a Soothing Solution to calm her and get her to sleep. We can set up a bed right in this very room for her – I just wanted to get permission to do so from a friend or family member, because I highly doubt she will take it from us willingly, and although I know it’s not perfectly ethical…”

“Pansy can be stubborn. Do what you need to do,” you sighed, nodding. “In fact, maybe just have Theo bring her some tea from the tea room. You can slip in the potion and he can bring it to her.”

“Thank you for understanding,” the Healer said, gratefully.

“Of course,” you said, feeling suddenly even more exhausted than you already were. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to visit my other friend.”

“Oh yes, of course,” he said, nodding and giving you a small, sad smile.

With a polite nod, you turned on your heel to enter Draco’s room, and got another unpleasant surprise when you entered the doorway. Because none other than your coworker Amanda was here, sitting on the edge of Draco’s bed. More than that, her hands were cupping his face and she was kissing him.

You stopped dead in your tracks, flinching as if you had been physically smacked in the face. Your jaw clenched, your fists tightened at your sides, and for the second time in five minutes, it felt that the ground had opened to swallow you whole. 

This time, you truly wished it would.

You cleared your throat irritably to announce your presence and get the snogging to end; at the same time, a glass vial sitting on a counter on the opposite side of the room shattered into hundreds of tiny pieces, causing you and Draco to jump and Amanda to let out a little shriek of surprise, whirling around to stare first at the vial, and then at you, one of her hands now placed delicately on Draco’s upper chest.

_Oh my god, was that me?_ you thought to yourself as you stared at the vial, just as shocked as the other two were. What in the world was happening? You hadn’t lost control of your magic since…

No. You didn’t want to think about that.

“What was _that_?” asked Draco, dumbfounded.

“No idea,” you lied stiffly, entering the room.

“Oh, Y/N! I’m so glad you’re here!” Amanda leaped up and ran over, pulling you into a hug that you awkwardly returned, patting her back as she held on to you for a few long moments. She pulled back and looked at your face, her eyes wide and earnest. “I read about what happened at the party in the Prophet this morning!” she said, wringing her hands nervously. “They mentioned Draco being hurt, so I thought I’d come and…and check on him…”

_Shove your tongue down his throat, more like._

“That’s thoughtful, Amanda,” you told her, marginally pleased with how sincere you sounded, despite the fact that you were still battling the strangest desire to take her by the shoulders, dig your fingers in, and shake her until her teeth rattled.

_It’s been a stressful morning_ , you told yourself, trying to calm down and slightly alarmed at yourself. _Lack of sleep, irritated with Ethan, and now this thing with Daphne…Amanda’s bubbly attitude is just literally the last thing I needed right now, that’s all…  
_

“I’m so glad you’re okay! And Draco, of course. He said you healed him during the fight. You must have been so quick and brave!”

“Well I – I could have been quicker,” you mumbled, unsure what to say to her gushing compliments and feeling more uncomfortable by the moment.

She just laughed a little. “I love this girl! So humble. I can see why you’re best friends.” She beamed at you and Draco happily, but then she sobered up, frowning. “But what about your other friend, the one who also comes to the bar? Daphne? Is she awake yet?”

“She. Um – ” The words lodged in your throat. It should have been easy to say. 

_She isn’t awake. It might be weeks.  
_

_Everything is falling apart._

“She – ” You broke off again, and felt the horrible stinging of tears come to your eyes, and then they were blurring your vision because there were too many.

_Oh, no._

“Y/N?” You heard Draco’s voice, clearly alarmed, as if from a very long way away.

Amanda’s hands were over her mouth, horrified, and it was the sympathetic look on her face that finally made you snap. Before you knew it, you were standing there, sobbing in the middle of the hospital room, with Draco looking on rather helplessly from his bed and Amanda rushing forward to hug you again, soothing words of comfort spilling hastily out of her.

“Oh, you poor thing!” she gushed, holding you tightly. You noted, with a rather unnecessary jolt of irritation, that she smelled positively lovely. “You’ve had a very stressful 24 hours, haven’t you? I’m so sorry.” She waited a few minutes until your breathing and gasps had subsided and the tears had all but stopped flowing, letting you cry it out on your shoulder, and then she leaned back to look at you. “Are you certain you’re up for working later, Y/N?”

“I – ” You swallowed thickly. “I have to come to work.”

“Oh, I can cover the shift alone! Or find someone else for you. I know it’ll be busy, but I’d be happy to explain to the boss that you weren’t feeling well – ”

“It’s not that,” you mumbled, avoiding her eyes. “It’s…um. Things are a little bit…tight this month. That’s all. I…need the shift. But thank you anyway.”

She seemed confused, and you had to admit that she had every reason to be. What Pureblood had money problems? It was practically unheard of. You felt yourself flushing, knowing that they were both staring intently at you and wishing very fervently that you could run out the door.

“Amanda,” said Draco suddenly, sounding rather strained. “Would you mind if Y/N and I could…have a visit? Alone?”

You both looked at him, and Amanda dropped her hands from your shoulders, eyes widening. “Oh, of course!” she said, earnestly. “I have to get going anyway. My shift starts early today.” She reached over and took her purse from the chair beside Draco’s bed, and gave him a smile that made you wish you had been looking the other way, or perhaps had gone temporarily blind. “I’ll visit you tomorrow?”

He didn’t seem capable of responding. He merely nodded, mutely.

She turned to you with a sincere smile. “I’ll see you at work later, okay?”

You nodded too, and with one last smile at the both of you, she was gone.

“Y/N,” began Draco, and you just sighed, collapsing into the chair beside his bed and burying your face into your hands, explaining before he could ask.

“She’s not awake, as you may have guessed. They estimated wrong. She could wake up tomorrow. She could wake up in two weeks. The good thing, at least, is they say its not permanent. Less than a month, apparently, but I’m so afraid that that will change, too – what if she never…” You stopped, abruptly, unable to say it out loud, afraid it might manifest some sort of horrible bad luck.

He was very quiet, and you were afraid to look at him. If you could see that he was taking the news hard, it would hit you all over again, and you had to start getting mentally prepared to go to your shift in a few hours. You had to toughen up. Pansy was counting on you, and so was he.

“She will,” he said, finally, softly. “She’s strong. It will be okay.”

Despite the strain in his voice he sounded certain, and it made you look up. He was examining you with a curious look on his face. It was a look that he sometimes got when you had the feeling that he wanted to perform Legilimens on you; scanning your face, brow furrowed, as if hoping to see your thoughts etched on your skin.

“You made that glass explode,” he stated, quietly.

Your eyes darted guiltily over to the shards of glass all over the floor. You drew your wand and muttered, “ _Reparo_ ” and watched it repair itself, though the liquid in the glass was officially lost. You hoped it hadn’t been too rare of a potion. “I don’t know,” you said, not quite honestly.

“Care to explain?” he asked, ignoring your last statement completely.

You sigh heavily, meeting his eyes. “It’s just – been a bad morning, okay?”

He shifted a little on the bed, looking at you even more curiously, wincing a little as he moved. “Again, would you care to explain? It’s not as if I have much else going on here,” he said, and you let out a watery laugh.

“I haven’t even asked you how you feel.”

“Like I fell hundreds of feet from a broomstick,” he said dryly. “But don’t change the subject. What happened?”

“Nothing much, really.” He arched an eyebrow at you and you rolled your eyes, sighing, and all of the sudden you felt it come spilling out of you. “I mean, okay, so I got hardly any sleep after yesterday, and then we wake up and it turns out my idiot boyfriend apparently doesn’t keep food in his fridge. So Theo had to go and get breakfast, which took him nearly _two hours_ – he claims there was a long line, but I’m convinced he was lost and didn’t want to admit it to me – ”

Draco coughed, which was clearly suppressing a laugh, and you stopped, looking at him suspiciously. “He told you, didn’t he?”

“He was lost,” confirmed Draco, trying to conceal a grin.

“I _knew_ it. He really needs to get out more,” you grumbled.

“We’re working on it,” said Draco. “What else?”

“Oh, just – ” You stopped, realizing you did not want to tell him the main reason why you were so irritable that morning before St. Mungo’s.

“Y/N,” he said, a hint of teasing melodrama in his voice, “I did not sacrifice my abdomen for you in order for you to just keep your problems from me.”

“Oh, shut up,” you grumbled, and you heard him cough laugh. “It was just…Ethan. It’s nothing. When Theo was gone, he was just being…irritating.”

Draco’s mood became sober almost instantly. “What did he do?”

“He didn’t _do_ anything, it was just – he wanted – it doesn’t matter.” You felt yourself flushing, and stared at your hands folded in your lap. “It was just not a good morning, and then I got here, found out about Daphne, having to deal with Pansy – the Healer is concerned and wants to secretly slip her a Sleeping Draught, by the way, because she’s going literally insane over there – and then I have to work – ”

“You heard Amanda,” said Draco, frowning deeply. “Don’t go.”

“And you heard me, though I really rather wish I wouldn’t have had to say it to either of you. If I miss one shift I cannot pay my bills, Draco,” you snapped, and upon seeing his look of surprise at your tone, you softened a little. “I’m sorry. It’s…I feel like I’m spiraling a little bit here.”

“Which is exactly why you shouldn’t go to work,” he pointed out. “You really think I’d let your bills go unpaid or let you get kicked out of your flat?”

“I don’t want your help,” you said, stubbornly.

He sighed heavily. “Not everyone will make you feel like shit about money like your parents did, Y/N, I _want_ to take care it – of you – ”

“Drop it, Draco, okay?” you said, crossly. “I want to do this myself.”

“Well, I don’t want you to!” he shot back, heatedly, and you raised your eyebrows at the passion in his voice. He was glaring at you, clearly irritated. “Money is nothing to me, Y/N, and it will help you _so much_ – and besides, it’s not safe for you to go to work right now, you know that! Not after last night.”

“Theo is coming with me,” you argued. “He’ll be there the whole time. We owled Blaise to come to St. Mungo’s today to visit you and be with Pansy…though hopefully, she’ll be sleeping all afternoon after we slip her that potion.”

He relaxed a little against his pillows, wincing, but he still looked distinctly angry, because his jaw was set in the stubborn way that you were all too familiar with. But he didn’t say anything else about helping you out financially, though you could tell he wanted to due to his permanent scowl. You sighed deeply, massaging your temples. “Well, I suppose I’ve come in here and brought your morning down to my level. I’m sorry.” You frowned at the floor.

“No,” he said, more gently. “It’s fine. Really. I’m here to help. I wish you’d just relax this afternoon, but since you won’t, just please…be careful, okay?”

“I will,” you promised. “I can come by tonight again, if you’d like.”

“I always want to see my favorite visitor.” He grinned at you.

“You sure someone else didn’t gain that honorable title? I can’t really compete with snogging, now can I?” 

You had meant it to be a joke; you truly had. But the tone had been so undeniably bitter that Draco’s brow furrowed as he looked at you, clearly surprised and uncertain of what to say. “It was a joke,” you muttered hastily, cheeks warming. “It didn’t sound like it, but I was just – I was kidding. I don’t care. I’m glad you are getting some entertainment in here.” There had been a slight acidic tone in your voice when you said _entertainment_ despite your best efforts to contain it, but to your relief, it was slight enough that he didn’t seem to have noticed it. Quickly, you changed the subject. “When will you be out of here, Draco? Having to help Pansy for the next month without you feels…unbearable. I need you.”

A smile flickered around the corners of his mouth. “Say that again.”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help but smile. “Has anyone ever told you that you have an incredibly large ego? Like, unhealthily large?”

“Someone may have mentioned it once or twice,” he said, smirking. “And the Healers said I should be out in two days.”

“Thank Merlin,” you muttered. “Well, I should go. I have to go slip my friend drugs without her knowledge. Standard everyday activities, you know.”

“Good luck,” he said, looking amused.

“Heal up fast, okay? I really do need you,” you said sincerely.

“I’ll do my best,” he promised, looking triumphantly smug.

Reaching forward, you squeezed his hand once, smiling at him, before leaving the room to go and try and get Pansy to finally get some sleep.


	8. Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we get a glimpse of our sadistic villain, Reader continues having a not so great week (though it begins to turn around), and Reader comes to an important decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warnings: language, mentions of sex/sexual themes, and *very important*, mentions of non-con due to Imperius Curse. Nothing TOO explicitly described, but still, if it bothers you, skip the first section of this chapter.

There was nothing better, at least in his opinion, than control.

Did he hate Purebloods? Well yes. Of course. 

But less for their blood than for what they had always been: the rulers. As the aristocracy of the Wizarding World, the power had been theirs. Really, it had been theirs since the Middle Ages, and they had proved themselves so very bad at having it that it frustrated him to no end.

He considered Tom Riddle to also have been a gigantic joke, when you looked at it objectively. Defeated, over and over, by a mere boy.

But where Tom Riddle had made his mistakes, he could learn from them. And it’s not to say that the Dark Lord hadn’t done some things correctly; of course, he had done some things very well, and those had to be acknowledged and used to his advantage. The secrecy, for one thing. Doing things in the shadows and making people afraid to go about their lives, making them suspicious of one another. 

It was really quite genius, and he meant to follow that example.

But the Dark Lord, in his opinion, had also been far too hung up on blood to get anywhere, because he had been interested only in allying himself with powerful Pureblood families. _That_ wasn’t a strategy he was interested in pursuing.

No. He wanted power from all sides. 

He wanted the society to break down from the inside out, and he could fill that power vacuum as soon as it was open, if he played his cards right. If you only go after Muggleborns, you’ll make an enemy of everyone that likes them or wants to defend them. And if you only go after Purebloods, you’ll end up in much the same situation. But recruiting different groups, each with their own hatreds and prejudices, and then going after _both_ – well, that made them work _against_ each other rather than band together. And that was where the real magic happened, because they would be too busy looking at each other – being suspicious and frightened of the other groups – to see him coming.

And that was precisely the way he liked it.

He smirked triumphantly, and his eyes fell on the woman across the room from him, how her blue eyes were slightly hazy with the Imperius Curse. The control over her made him twitch with arousal, and he smiled, walking slowly toward her. “I’ll divide them and I’ll conquer them, and you’ll help me, won’t you, my dear?” 

She hummed in agreement, and he smiled, satisfied. “You’re integral to my plan, sweetheart. You know that, don’t you?”

She nodded again, smiling vaguely, and he felt his self-control snap.

“On your knees,” he commanded, his voice a deep growl, and of course she obeyed without hesitation. He unzipped his pants and closed his eyes, waiting for her mouth.

When he reached his peak, it was the image of himself as the most powerful man in the entire Wizarding World that flashed behind his eyes.

* * *

As expected, Draco was released two days later from St. Mungo’s, on Monday afternoon. You had expected this to mean that things would get better that week.

They didn’t. Not really.

By Friday morning, Daphne had yet to wake up.

You and Ethan had been squabbling all week, keeping you in a state of constant tension. You had tried to talk to him about his behavior the weekend before, and he had not taken your concern seriously.

You also had literally no alone time. Someone was always with you, just as Potter and Granger had instructed the Purebloods to do, but still – you hated being babysat even at your job, and you hated it even more when it was Draco and Amanda was working with you. This had happened two nights that week. She had left with the two of you, Draco had dropped you off with Theo, Blaise, or Pansy for safekeeping, and then he and Amanda would head off together.

The second time this happened, on Friday evening, they had dropped you off at St. Mungo’s, where Pansy had set up a permanent camp in Daphne’s room, waiting not so patiently for her to wake up. Pansy was no longer having a complete mental breakdown, which you supposed was an improvement; however, she was now in a nasty mood much of the time instead, and sometimes this lead to conversations that made you want to slap her, strangle her, or both.

Draco and Amanda had just said goodbye and left the room and you had watched them go very irritably (without, in fact, even realizing you were doing it), and unfortunately, Pansy had been watching you very carefully the entire time, and she was in one of her moods.

“So when are you going to stop this pining thing?” you heard her say, harshly.

“Excuse me?” You looked over from the door, and saw she was watching you with her eyes narrowed. 

She rolled them and scoffed. “Oh, come on. Why play games? One of you could, you know, end up in a fucking coma.”

“I’m not playing games,” you replied, miffed. “I’m irritated because I need to be babysat so as not to be alone because of everything that’s going on, but then he can just go off and do whatever – ”

“But he’s not alone,” she pointed out, rather nastily. “He’s with her.”

You wanted to tell her that just because Daphne still hadn’t woken didn’t mean she had to be such a bitch – and didn’t she understand that you didn’t like being followed and watched while at work like a child (where you were also _not_ alone) that couldn’t take care of itself? – but you knew it was better to keep quiet. You had seen Pansy in these moods before, and it usually was only Daphne that could calm them. Now, however, that the cause was the absence of Daphne…

Well, it was becoming a real nightmare.

You glanced over at Daphne’s sleeping form.

_Please wake up_ , you begged silently. _It’s terrible without you._

“I miss her,” you only said, quietly.

Pansy softened a little. “Me too.”

You tried to brighten the mood. “We could order Chinese food?”

“Too fucking greasy,” Pansy snapped, sinking into her chair and opening a magazine idly after shooting you a disdainful glare. “Are you _trying_ to make me feel even sicker while being trapped in this hellhole of germs?”

Sighing, you decided to give up on trying to cheer up Pansy for the evening.

There came a soft knock on the door frame to your room.

Glancing up, you were surprised to see that it was, yet again, Hermione Granger.

“Erm – hi,” she said, a bit timidly.

“Hi,” you said, surprised but friendly. Pansy just glanced up, rolled her eyes again, licked a perfectly manicured finger (she had, after all, a lot of boring down time in the hospital room) and flicked a magazine page, ignoring her completely.

“I was just – well, I wanted to check and see how she’s doing, you know, and also see if I could maybe…talk to you?” Granger had come in the room and was looking at you a little apprehensively, and your heart fell in your chest. Last time you had spoken with her, it hadn’t been good news, and if her expression was anything to go by, this time probably wouldn’t be good news either.

“Daphne is still very much comatose, as you can see, Granger,” said Pansy waspishly, narrowing her eyes up at her. “And though it seems unlikely she’ll wake up in the next few moments, I’d appreciate it if you’d move and not obstruct my view to the bed with that big, bushy head of yours.”

“Sorry, you’ll have to excuse her,” you said loudly and angrily, glancing pointedly at Pansy, “Pansy isn’t usually _quite_ this bad anymore, but she seems to think that her girlfriend being in the hospital means she can be a complete and utter bitch to even her friends. Who _also miss Daphne_ and are miserable, by the way.”

Pansy’s eyes flashed. “And Y/N just has her panties in a bunch because Draco is currently fucking someone else’s brains out and she can’t admit that it bothers her,” she shot back, very nastily. “You know, like a repressed teenager.”

“Pansy, _enough_ ,” you hissed, so furious that you were practically seeing red. It was probably the first time that you had ever really considered hexing her.

“Um,” squeaked Granger, very awkwardly, “Should we – erm – talk outside?”

“ _Yes_ ,” you said, emphasizing it roughly, standing up and stalking out of the room without so much of a glance at Pansy. You were afraid that if you looked at her and the expression on her face, that you would end up tackling her. You did not need this after the week you had had, and especially because now you likely were not about to get good news from Hermione Granger. You turned to face Granger once you were both in the hall, and she had a curious look on her face.

“So, um…any changes with Daphne?” she asked kindly.

“Not really,” you sighed. “Which is, as you can see, getting to Pansy just a little.”

“You tolerate that very well,” she said, still perfectly polite.

You laughed. “Is that your way of saying that I’m a good doormat?”

“No! You’re a good friend. She’s under stress right now, and you can see that.”

“Thanks,” you said, sighing. “It’s good to hear that from someone right now. And thanks for asking about Daphne. It’s really kind of you.”

She nodded, studying your face a little, looking rather curious. “So did you – well, break up with that guy? The Quidditch player?”

For a moment, you were surprised that Hermione Granger knew who you were dating, but then you remembered that it was all over the tabloids, so she was bound to see it crop up at some point. What was more surprising, however, was that she seemed genuinely interested in your life; not because of gossip, but because of earnest, actual interest in you.

“No,” you said, a little flatly. “Pansy’s just…”

“Being Parkinson?” she guessed, smiling a little.

“Yeah. Though to be honest, it’s really not going that great with Ethan lately, and this week has been just…complete and utter shit.” You stopped, wondering why you had just said all of that. You hardly knew Hermione Granger, and yet here you were, telling her something that you had barely talked to your other friends about. “I’m sorry,” you said abruptly. “You probably don’t want to hear about any of that. I’m not even really sure why I told you.”

She smiled kindly. “It’s okay. I don’t really have a lot of women to talk to, so I find it quite…nice to talk to you, actually. And you can talk to me. I won’t go to the press. I know exactly how it feels to be scrutinized.”

_That’s true_ , you realized, thinking back on fourth year and the articles published about her, Harry Potter, and Viktor Krum, not to mention all of the other things that happened to this woman after that.

“That’s…thank you,” you said, surprised and pleased. For the first time that week, you had a fleeting feeling of happiness, and you knew now that there was something you had to say. Something, in fact, that you maybe had always wanted to say to Hermione Granger. “Hey, listen…” She waited expectantly, still politely curious. “Look…I just wanted to say – it’s been weighing on me for a long time, how my friends and I treated you in school. How we thought about…blood, and things like that. I’ve known for years now that it was wrong, but now that we’re being targeted, it’s like…I have a more accurate idea of how it felt to be you, all those years. And I should have done this much earlier, but I just wanted to say how…how very sorry I am. Hermione.”

She smiled, a wide, touched smile, and she reached out and clasped you lightly on the arm. You could see tears in her eyes. “That’s very sweet of you. I accept your apology, Y/N. And I’m so sorry this is happening to you and your friends. We’re doing everything we can, I promise. Unfortunately I have some…not so great news.”

“I had guessed that,” you said quietly, deflating. “What is it?”

“There’s been disappearances. Purebloods. Every couple of days. We’re trying to keep the Prophet off of it, but it’s only a matter of time before the stories break. I just wanted to keep you in the loop, you know. Make sure you’re still being careful.”

“Thanks,” you said, a mixture of grateful and gloomy. “Really, Hermione. It means a lot that you took the time to come here and tell me this.”

“Take care of yourself, okay?” she said, squeezing your arm and withdrawing.

“You too,” you told her. “I’ll see you around? We could…get coffee sometime.”

She grinned. “I’d like that. Very much.”

Giving her a wave and feeling a warmth spread through your chest at the prospect of a new friend, you watched her go. It was as if a weight of shame and guilt years old had lifted from your chest. And it felt good. 

You felt stronger now, despite what she had told you.

Strong enough, at least, to deal with Pansy for the evening.

And then something even better happened, very early on Saturday morning, when the first rays of sunshine were creeping in through the crack of window that the curtains were not covering and you and Pansy had flitted in and out of states of fitful sleep all throughout the night.

Daphne opened her eyes.

* * *

Three hours later, Blaise, Theo, and Draco had joined you in Daphne’s room despite the early hour, grinning like maniacs at the news that the owls you had sent had brought them: Daphne was awake.

She seemed to feel just fine, if not still a bit tired, but she was smiling easily as she lay there, propped back against her pillows. 

The Healers had pronounced that she would be ready to leave the next morning and Pansy had begun weeping from happiness, sobbing and ranting about how wonderful it was to have Daphne back and to leave this bloody hospital. You hoped that this emotionally vulnerable outburst meant that bitchy Pansy was done for; but even so, with Daphne back, you thought happily, that attitude would be easily nipped in the bud if that side of Pansy made a return.

“What did I miss?” Daphne asked you, as you crowded around her bed in hospital chairs and shared a tablet of croissants.

“Not much,” said Theo. “It was boring, really.”

“We’re glad to have you back,” said Draco earnestly.

“Especially because Pansy was becoming a literal monster,” said Blaise, in his bored voice, the only one brave enough to say it so bluntly, and everyone fought to contain their laugh as Pansy shot him a look that could kill. 

Daphne, however, just sighed. “Oh no. You were taking it out on them, weren’t you, my love? I know how you are under extreme stress.”

Pansy looked guilty. “Only a little.” She glanced over at you, and you could see shame sparkling in her eyes. “I’m sorry, everyone. Especially you, Y/N – about what I said earlier. I shouldn’t have goaded you like that.”

“Don’t worry about it,” you said quickly, as everyone was looking on curiously.

“And besides,” said Pansy teasingly, a distinct and mischievous twinkle in her eye. “I know that it’s not true. That would be _ridiculous_.”

“What is she talking about?” Draco asked you, nudging you with his shoulder.

“ _Nothing_ ,” you said quickly, and shot Pansy a warning glance.

She just laughed. “Now that my mind is free of torment, I can make it up to you, Y/N! Your birthday is in two fucking weeks, can you believe it? What kind of party are you thinking? Do you want a theme? Holy shit, I’m so full of happy adrenaline right now that I can plan the craziest party within, like, a few hours – ”

“No idea,” you said hurriedly. “You know me, Pansy, no fuss – ”

“Nonsense,” she shushed you, a wild light in her eyes. “I’m going to pamper you and dress you and give you a wild fucking ride. Ideas, anyone?”

“Magic mushrooms,” said Blaise, shrugging.

“Noted,” said Pansy with glee. “Next?”

“Oh, Merlin,” you muttered to Draco beside you, and he chuckled.

“Male strippers?” Daphne suggested.

Pansy wrinkled her nose. “I’ll do it for you, Y/N. But only you. Literally. You’re the only one in this group that likes men.”

“I don’t want strippers, Pansy,” you said, laughing.

“Thank _goodness_.”

“Just whatever you come up with will be fine,” you said, though, with an added sense of alarm, you said, “On second thought, maybe someone should keep you in check. Make sure you don’t do anything too wild for me. Draco? Daphne?” You looked at them imploringly, and they both grinned.

“Consider it done,” said Draco, winking at you.

* * *

The next two weeks practically flew by.

The Daily Prophet broke news every few days of the disappearance of another Pureblood. Your group of friends tried not to let the tension get to you, but it was very difficult not to do so when you all felt that you had to constantly look over your shoulder or feared doing basic things such as going to Diagon Alley.

You worried for Draco and Pansy, specifically. Every time that you didn’t see them for more than a few hours you would worry; and then, when it came time to meet up with them again, you would feel a powerful wave of relief upon seeing them.

There was something that you knew that you had to do, something that you did not want to do and therefore kept putting off, because it would be rather unpleasant.

But finally, on the Thursday two days before your birthday, you decided that it had to be done; that you couldn’t put it off any longer. He had, after all, had been asking you about what you would do together for your birthday, and you had to do it before you could make plans.

And so you were particularly tense that day during your shift. Working with Amanda, kind as she was, did not improve your mood, because she was chatting animatedly to you about her new Kama Sutra book, which she had behind the counter with her and was flipping through to show you some of the extremely graphic images; and how she was taking yoga classes to become more flexible. “This one partner I have, Kevin…” she was saying, and you paused from where you were wiping a glass with your rag by hand.

“Wait,” you said, cutting her off, and turned to frown at her. “Are you and Draco not…you know…exclusive?”

“Oh, _no_ ,” she breathed, giggling. “I thought you would know! I asked him at the beginning, actually, because quite frankly, I would have liked to have exclusivity with him because I was _quite_ infatuated with him. But he wasn’t really keen on the idea. I was disappointed for a while, you know, but there’s always more fish in the sea, isn’t there? And besides, we still have our fun.” She grinned mischievously. “He’s particularly good at _this_ one on page 34 – ”

“Boundary, Amanda,” you reminded her curtly, averting your eyes from the book that she was enthusiastically brandishing at you.

“Oh, right! Sorry.”

“It’s fine. Here, I’ll dry that for you.”

“Is that a Kama Sutra book?” Pansy’s curious voice sounded behind you.

She and Daphne had arrived, already lounging comfortably in their regular bar stools, and you automatically began making their favorite drinks, as a force of habit. Blaise, who had been with you at work that day, nodded at them and rose his glass, but didn’t leave from his table, where he was clearly engrossed in a book and was in no mood to talk to anyone.

You shook your head in warning at Pansy, but Amanda lit up.

“Yes! Do you have one?”

“No. Maybe we should get one though. Daphne’s quite flexible.”

“Do any of you lot ever stop talking about sex?” you groaned.

“Just because you aren’t getting some at the moment doesn’t mean we should all stop talking about it,” said Pansy smugly, swirling the ice in her glass and giving you a smirk. “Come on, Y/N, you’re hot. Dump that boyfriend of yours that makes you miserable and get out on the town.”

“Actually,” you said carefully, “Breaking up with Ethan is precisely what I plan on doing tonight. I’ve been wanting to for the past week – I think, deep down, for a while, actually – but I kept putting it off. So I have _that_ to look forward to after I get off.” Gloomily, you dried another glass.

“The Quidditch star?” asked Amanda, gaping. “He doesn’t make you happy?”

“Not in the slightest,” you told her, shaking your head. “He’s like an overgrown child, and I’m tired of the stress that comes with him. Not to mention the press, which is a whole other category of stress. It’s fucking terrible.”

“Good for you, honey,” said Daphne encouragingly. “It will go just fine.”

“Thanks, Daphne,” you said, smiling at her.

“I know the real reason,” said Pansy, grinning and taking a chug of the drink that you had just set in front of her. “She wants to be single on her birthday. Should I hire those male strippers after all?”

“Your birthday!” Amanda sounded positively vibrant. “How exciting!”

“You know Amanda,” said Pansy, glancing at you with a mischievous sparkle in her dark eyes. “Maybe you could come! And I couldn’t help but overhear earlier as we were coming in that you had kind of hoped to be exclusive with Draco. Seeing as Y/N is his very best friend, I’m sure she could convince Draco to give you a chance.” Here, she shot you another positively devilish smile, and Daphne was looking at her girlfriend out of the side of her eye, vaguely alarmed. “After all, what best friend wouldn’t want the other person to be happy with a nice person. Right, Y/N?” She smiled at you far too innocently. You wanted to strangle her.

“Of course,” you said tightly, glaring at Pansy, who just grinned wider and summoned the Kama Sutra book to leaf through the pages. Daphne was clutching her drink glass nervously, glancing between the two of you.

“Oh, wow!” said Amanda, kindly. “Well first of all, if you’d like to talk to him, Y/N, go ahead, but please don’t feel pressured. I’m also perfectly happy with the arrangement now and I’m sure it will happen differently if it’s meant to be.”

“The _arrangement_ probably taking the form of something like page 50, it seems, seeing as its bookmarked,” mused Pansy, flipping the book around and smiling wickedly at you as you flinched at the picture.

“When is the party?” Amanda asked enthusiastically.

“Saturday,” said Pansy.

“Oh, darn. I have to work a double shift on Saturday! But it was so kind of you to think of me. I really appreciate it, and I hope you’ll have a great time.” She took off her apron and set it on the counter. “I’m going to the ladies room, girls. I’ll be right back.” Giving you all an angelic smile, she practically skipped off to the bathroom.

As soon as she was gone, you rounded on Pansy. “What the actual _fuck_ do you think you are doing, Parkinson?”

“Goading you into action,” said Pansy, shrugging. “I thought that was obvious.”

“Action? Pansy, I swear – ”

“I stand by what I said in the hospital,” said Pansy firmly. “Not how, but what. Admit it. You have no reason to dislike that girl, except for the fact that she’s riding Draco like a stallion.” She flipped the book again once more to show you an illustration that demonstrated her point, and you snatched it away from her, closed it with a snap, and slammed it back where Amanda had it previously, behind the counter.

“I can’t believe you’d just invite her, Pansy, you know I just wanted to do something with our group of friends,” you hissed angrily. “It’s not that I dislike her, and I-I don’t care what she and Draco get up to. In fact, I’m _glad_ that they are having fun, so if you would please just stop with this shit…”

“Look at that,” said Pansy to Daphne, amused, “I think she really believes it.”

“You’re so condescending!” you growled.

“Oh, relax, I checked the schedule. I knew she was working,” said Pansy, huffing.

“Daphne?” You looked at your other friend imploringly. “Can you please talk some sense into her and tell her that she is _wrong_? That I do _not_ have some sort of secret flame for my best friend?”

Daphne looked supremely uncomfortable, and before she could say anything, Pansy cut in, “I said _repressed_ , not a secret, Y/N. There’s a difference, you know. A secret would imply that you know, but won’t or don’t want to tell anyone. But if it’s repressed, it means that _you_ don’t even know, or you won’t admit it to yourself, because you’re scared, or nervous that something will go wrong – ”

“No more free drinks tonight,” you told her brusquely, turning abruptly away. “I’m cutting you off, Pansy, out of sheer irritation.”

She sighed, stirring her straw around in her drink. “Rude.”

“ _You’re_ rude. You can’t just play with people like this, Pansy.” You slammed a beer glass down on the table and began pouring for a customer, very thankful there were only ten minutes left in your shift.

After all, you had to go and get this breakup over with at Ethan’s place.


	9. Nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Reader finally follows through on her decision regarding her boyfriend, receiving a nasty shock in the process.

Daphne and Pansy were whispering something to each other and giggling when Draco entered the bar, slightly too late to catch you at the end of your shift. Still, he had expected you to be with Daphne and Pansy, and, confused, he glanced around the bar to see if perhaps you were talking to someone else. Blaise was at his own table and you weren’t with him; and you also weren’t anywhere else to be seen. Frowning, he hurried over to Daphne and Pansy.

“Where’s Y/N?”

He nodded at Amanda, who waved cheerfully at him from the bar, but that was all the attention he gave her; his heart was pounding like crazy without knowing where you were, especially in times like this.

Pansy looked up, surprised. “She just left.”

“She – wait, alone?!” Draco sputtered, fists clenching at his sides.

The two girls glanced at each other, clearly guilty, having forgotten not to let one of their own go off by themselves. Draco’s voice rose to a volume that made several others around the bar stare. “Are you two insane?! After everything that’s happened, you let her leave this late at night _alone_??”

“Shit,” whispered Daphne, covering her mouth. “We didn’t think – ”

“Too many fucking drinks to properly use your brains, I suspect,” Draco spat, glaring at the pair of them. “Where did she go?”

They glanced at each other.

“Well?” Draco pressed, fuming.

“Her boyfriend’s,” said Pansy, biting her lip. “Or well…not for long.”

That gave Draco pause. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“She’s going to Ethan’s to break up with him, and then I suspect she’ll go home,” said Daphne, sounding worried. “Oh Merlin, we should have gone with her, but she said she wanted to do it alone…”

Draco felt suddenly very strange, as if he had been submerged in water unexpectedly: a shock to his system. But it was not an altogether unpleasant one. Almost like the shock of jumping into a cool pool on a very hot summer’s day. “She’s…breaking up with him?” he asked, voice carefully contained.

“Yes,” said Pansy. “Though I predict a 62% chance that he’ll sweet talk her out of it and into sex, so if you’d like to stop that, I suggest you go after her. And please do, because I’d really like her to end it with him. He’s bad for her.”

“I’m worried about her getting kidnapped or killed, Pansy,” hissed Draco, rounding on her, though he of course didn’t disagree with her assessment of your relationship with that absolute wanker. He was already turning toward the door, shoulders hunched in anger, and he was gone before they could say anything.

Very luckily, he’d had to pick you up at Ethan’s place before, so he knew where to go. He just hoped that you were, in fact, there.

* * *

You arrived at Ethan’s front door at exactly 12:33 AM, steeling yourself for the task ahead, knowing that it was not going to be pleasant.

It took longer than usual after you knocked for him to answer the door. When he did, he was in his pajama bottoms and shirtless, and upon seeing you, he smiled rather nervously. “Y/N, love,” he greeted you. “I wasn’t expecting you. Erm – come on in.” He ushered you inside, still with an air of distinct agitation.

You narrowed your eyes, suspicious and confused. “Is everything all right?”

“What? Oh, yes, yes. Like I said, I just didn’t expect you. I was reading, nearly asleep actually, and…” He was still babbling about something or other, but you had stopped listening. It was, in fact, as if his voice had become muffled, like the volume of everything had been turned down very suddenly and reduced to background noise, because you saw, very clearly, what looked suspiciously like a bra half hidden between the coffee table and the couch.

“What is that?” you asked suddenly, cutting off his ramble, pointing to it.

He glanced to where your finger was indicating, and you watched him carefully. You saw it: how his face paled and his eyes widened. 

A clear admission of guilt.

“You must have left your bra here last time, darling,” said Ethan quickly. 

You stalked over to it and picked it up. “This is not my bra size,” you said brusquely. “And I’m quite sure I would never wear something with these godawful fucking sequins.” You brandished it at him angrily. “Is she here now?”

He seemed to nearly jump out of his skin. “What? Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Don’t fuck with me, Ethan, I’m not in the mood.” Dropping the bra onto the coffee table and turning on your heel, you began stomping off toward his bedroom in a blind sort of rage.

“Wait, love, hold on,” he pleaded, trotting along behind you. “Wait, my room is a complete mess, you see, and I’m embarrassed for you to see it in that state – wait, please, just _wait_ – ” He grabbed your wrist, but you whipped around and yanked it out of his grasp, glaring at him. You were just about to continue on down the hall when the doorbell rang, shocking you both.

“I’m shirtless, love, would you please?” he asked anxiously, stepping between you and his bedroom so as to prevent you from going further.

Throwing him a look that could kill, you went to the front door and opened it, blinking in shock to see none other than Draco standing on the doormat. He seemed to visibly sag in relief upon seeing you. “You’re all right,” he breathed, leaning against the door frame. “You went alone. I-I had to check.”

“Come in, Draco.” Your voice sounded strange.

He noticed, because he looked at you in a very concerned manner. “Erm…I don’t know if I should come in, Y/N. Are you sure?”

“Yes,” you snapped, taking him by the hand roughly and dragging him angrily inside, just as Ethan rounded the corner of the hall.

Draco’s eyes swept over the other man’s shirtless form, and he seemed to deflate. “So – so are you two still…”

You looked at him in surprise. “They told you?”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Ethan spoke up, indignantly.

“I’ll ask the questions,” you hissed, rounding on him. “Explain that fucking bra that doesn’t belong to me, Ethan.”

Slowly, Draco turned to stare at the man that looked distinctly guilty.

Automatically, his fists clenched at his sides.

“It’s – it must be yours, love, you must be mistaken – ”

“Please,” scoffed Draco, eyeing the thing on the coffee table. “She would never wear something with _sequins_.”

“Exactly,” you said briskly, and you began marching forward toward the hall again.

“Wait! Y/N, please, please, hold on…” 

But you paid Ethan’s bleating no mind. You just continued on furiously down the hall, with Draco awkwardly hovering at the beginning of the hall, with a horrible, sinking feeling of what you were about to find.

Sure enough, when you reached the door to his bedroom, there was another woman in the bed, completely naked, though she hurriedly dragged the covers up to her chest to hide herself. Her eyes were wide, and she looked frightened and confused. Stiffly, you rounded on Ethan. Draco, for this part, stayed at the end of the hall, but he could see your side profile, bathed partially in shadow from the viewpoint where he was standing.

“How long?” Your voice was calm, but he heard the break underneath the surface. He knew that this was hurting you more than you let on.

Indeed, you were surprised by how much it hurt. 

You had known since seeing the bra, of course, and so seeing her here shouldn’t be such a shock. Nor should it hurt so much. And especially since you had been coming here to break up with him anyway. Still, there was something about knowing that someone you had cared about and stayed loyal to had broken your trust all along that stung like nothing else you had ever felt.

“Y/N, love, I can explain – ”

“HOW LONG?!” you shouted, causing even Draco to jump. “And _how many_?! I was coming here to break up with you tonight anyway, Ethan, but now I’d like to at least know this before I go! The least you can do is be honest about this!” 

Draco strolled over to your side now, expression menacing, and planted his feet squarely so that he was staring the other man right in the eye. His eyes were like hard steel; it had been a long time since you had seen him look so angry.

Ethan’s chin suddenly tilted up defiantly, and you could see a flash anger in his eyes. “The entire time, and with plenty of women, you fucking hypocrite,” he spat, taking a step forward at you and his eyes flashing dangerously again. “I’m not blind. As if the two of you haven’t been fucking behind my back.”

You opened your mouth to shout profanities at him, to scream and shout and rage at the implication that you were anything like him, but you didn’t get anything out, for Draco had pulled back and thrown his fist directly into Ethan’s face.

A resounding _crack_ sounded through the flat, and quick as lightning, Draco had whipped out his wand. The nude woman sitting in the bed screamed, but no one paid her any mind. Ethan didn’t seem to have his wand on him, for he didn’t draw it out nor retaliate, and he only glared at the tip of Draco’s, pressed directly on his chest, his nose bleeding profusely as he cradled it.

“I think I remember telling you,” snarled Draco, jaw set so tightly it looked like it may snap, “that if you ever did anything to hurt her in any way I would kill you. Do you remember that conversation?”

Draco’s wand ignited with white sparks in his fury; Ethan howled as they singed the front of his chest, leaping back as a dark mark was left behind on his skin. Ethan’s face was now chalk white and covered in blood; you tried to tug on Draco’s arm. “Let’s go,” you told him, shaking him, suddenly frightened at the rage that Draco was in.

He didn’t even seem to hear you. “Do you remember or not?” snapped Draco, taking another step forward at your ex-boyfriend. “Because I will not hesitate to do it. In fact, it would give me great pleasure, believe me.”

“Draco, please,” you insisted, pulling his arm so hard that he stumbled backward, and only then did he seem to come to himself. He glanced at you, saw the look in your eyes, and then flicked his wand almost casually at Ethan.

“ _Petrificus Totalus_ ,” he hissed, and Ethan fell to the ground face down, stiff as a board. The woman screamed again.

“I’d watch your back if I were you,” Draco spat, and he kicked him in the side.

“Draco, _stop_ ,” you pleaded. “Please, let’s just go…”

He obeyed, albeit reluctantly, and allowed himself to be dragged along the hall and out the front door. You slammed it behind you and turned away from him as he pocketed his wand. It was quiet for a few moments, and he was unsure of exactly what to say that may be of any comfort.

You spun around, and it pained his chest to see your eyes looking so dead.

“I just want to go home,” you told him, voice flat.

“Y/N – ”

“Don’t,” you mumbled, shaking your head and waving your arms as if physically warding off whatever he was about to say. “Don’t try and make me feel better. I don’t need it, it doesn’t matter. I’m fine.”

Just then, one of the planters on Ethan’s front porch burst, sending clay and dirt and bits of plant everywhere, causing both of you to duck and cover your faces so as to avoid getting hit by shards of clay pot.

“Are we going, or not?” you asked dully, after a moment.

Draco straightened up and stared at you incredulously. “Are you really going to pretend like that didn’t just happen?”

“I told you, I’m fine,” you growled.

“You just lost control of your magic,” he pointed out, rather unnecessarily. “For the second time in two weeks, I might add. That is not normal for adults, Y/N. You are what I’d call the exact _opposite_ of fine.”

“I’ll go on my own then,” you snapped, turning on your heel and beginning to storm off, and, after a few seconds of stunned silence, Draco hastened to catch up, doing so easily with his long strides compared to yours.

“Y/N, please – please stop, I’ll Apparate us to your place – would you – hey, come on – would you please just – just _stop_ , for just a second? It’s not _safe_ for us out here, and I’ll be damned if I let that bloody wanker get us in trouble,” he pressed, grabbing your wrist. You struggled with him, but he held firm, and eventually you were forced to spin around and face him, with such force that you crashed unceremoniously against his chest. As he peered down at you, he was horrified to see the beginnings of tears glistening in your eyes.

Reacting on pure instinct, he wrapped his arms around you and turned, Apparating the both of you with a loud _crack_ right onto your doorstep.

You stumbled as you landed; he steadied you and stepped back, but kept a steady hold on your wrist in case you decided to bolt again. “Keys,” he reminded you, and as if in a trance, you fished them out of your pocket and handed them to him wordlessly, allowing him to open the door and get you into the safety of your flat. Once inside, the tension in his body from being out in the open with you in this particularly vulnerable state relaxed, and he let go of your arm, since there was nowhere you could run.

Except, it seemed, to any room without him in it. Because you had turned, slowly, without a word, and were heading off toward the living room.

“Y/N.”

“Go away.”

“No.” He followed you, unsure where you were going or if _you_ even really knew where you were going; he suspected that you just didn’t want him to see your face, because he had heard the tremble in your voice.

“I said _go away_!” you screeched, wheeling around to face him angrily, but your face didn’t hold any real anger. It was scrunched up, and you were glaring, but it was a defense mechanism. He knew you too well, and he knew what anger really looked like on you. And even if he hadn’t known right away, the way that your voice was shaking too much to be truly menacing would have clued him in. And then the steady stream of tears began sliding down your cheeks, and you let out a heartbroken little sob, covering your mouth and turning away again.

He didn’t really know what to say, so he didn’t say anything. 

Instead, he just bounded forward in two steps, easily resisting your halfhearted attempt to push him away, and pulled you around and into a hug. 

After a moment, he felt you relax, flat against his chest, and felt your entire body begin to tremble with sobs. He just pulled you closer, as close as possible, one hand tangling in your hair and the other on your back, rubbing slow circles to soothe you as you slowly leaned on him until you were practically a limp dead weight there in the middle of the floor.

He half carried you, half dragged you to the living room sofa and settled on it with you, yanking a blanket over the both of you and pulling you to lay comfortably on his chest so you could cry it out.

This was, unfortunately, not Draco Malfoy’s first rodeo in this department.

There had been two others that had made you cry like this in the past, and Draco still remembered them vividly. Of course he did; whenever this happened he tended to imagine hexing or harming the men in some fashion, so it was quite difficult to forget the faces of the men that had hurt you.

At least the image of Ethan’s bloodied up face could at least give him some sense of satisfaction in all this, though when he felt the way you were shaking and heard the sobs racking your body, it still didn’t feel like he’d done enough.

“I’m – so – _stupid_ ,” you wailed suddenly, sounding so distraught that he tightened his hold on you even more, anxiously petting your hair.

“No,” he soothed gently. “Definitely not. He’s the stupid one.”

“I was g-going to b-break up with him, but it still h-hurts,” you whispered hoarsely, and Draco felt another surge of powerful anger coarse through his entire body, like a painful jolt of electricity to his system that made his limbs stiffen of their own accord. “Even if he was a bad b-boyfriend I at least th-thought that he l-loved me enough not to…” you trailed off, pressing your face further, almost painfully, into his shoulder. “I tr- _trusted_ him,” he heard you whisper brokenly, and this was, perhaps, the most angering thing to him of all. You had trusted purely, and he had used you.

No. He definitely hadn’t done enough.

“You shouldn’t have stopped me,” he growled, more to himself than to you. “I would have beaten him into a bloody pulp.”

“That’s _why_ I had to stop you,” you choked out, sounding rather panicked. For the first time, you leaned back to look at him, and he was struck by how tear-strained your cheeks were, how red and puffy your eyes were, and yet, how much he still liked looking at your face. “You could have gotten in serious trouble, Draco.”

“I don’t care,” he muttered, using his thumbs to wipe tears off your cheeks as you stared back at him, wide-eyed. “I really, _really_ don’t care about that.”

“But I do,” you whispered, lips trembling. “You can’t go to Azkaban for something so stupid, Draco, no matter how short a time. I told you that I needed you.”

He couldn’t help it. His eyes darted to your lips. It was the worst possible timing, and it would make him horribly selfish to do such a thing when you were like this, right now, but he desperately wanted to kiss you, especially after hearing those words tumble out of your mouth. When had he ever been needed? Never, really. His parents loved him endlessly, of course. But that wasn’t quite the same thing.

The urge was so overwhelming that he had to press your head back to his chest to hug you with a sigh, so that he wouldn’t have to look into your eyes.

“Promise me,” you mumbled urgently, voice muffled in his shirt and fingers clutching desperately at the material. “Promise you won’t do anything stupid.”

“I promise,” he said, voice resigned.

He felt your body relax against his. “Thank you,” you whispered. He heard you sigh, softly, a dejected little sound that twisted his insides. “I feel so stupid,” you whispered again, sadly.

“You are _not_ stupid,” he said fiercely, anger boiling his insides all over again. “It’s like you think they’re doing you a favor by being with you. But don’t you see? It’s the other way around, Y/N. You’re _special_. Any bloke would be lucky to be with you, and he should have to earn it. He didn’t earn it.” He kissed your knuckles softly, without thinking, really, pulling your hands from where you had been clutching at his shirt collar and pressing his lips gently against them, and he heard your breath catch slightly at the contact. 

He froze, suddenly fearful he had gone too far, been too forward.

_You idiot_ , he chastised himself. _  
_

“Are you tired?” he asked quickly. “Do you want to go to bed?”

“Yes,” you said quietly. “Will you stay with me?”

“I’m not going anywhere,” he said, squeezing you momentarily. “We established already we shouldn’t stay somewhere alone.”

“I – I meant…” You pushed back off his chest to peek up at him, tentatively. “Sleep with me in my bed? Like – like when were younger, remember? When my parents and I would fight, and I would always come stay with you at the Manor?” 

It was completely innocent, the way you had asked. Nervous, too.

As if he’d be able to deny this request. Any request, really, coming from you.

“Yes,” he murmured, brushing a strand of hair out of your eyes with a gentle smile. “Of course I will.”

You rewarded him with a watery, grateful smile, and he again shifted, began sitting up and eventually stood, hauling you up so he could carry you to your bed, so that he would not be tempted to kiss you all over again. Looking at you too long at this proximity was dangerous, and doing so right after a break-up would have made him the worst friend in the entire world. It would have to wait.

You wrapped your arms easily around his neck, like it was the most natural thing in the world, and he tried very hard not to think about how that made him feel.

Once in your bedroom, he deposited you gently onto the bed and crawled in beside you, getting comfortable under the blankets and allowing you to nuzzle into his side with a content sounding sigh.

He was awake a long time after you cried yourself to sleep, listening to your deep, peaceful breathing and running his fingers through your hair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warnings: language, light violence/fighting, angst, sexual allusions/mentions


	10. Ten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Birthday shenanigans, part 1.

“You know,” said Hermione Granger, stirring sugar into her coffee and giving you a smile from across the table, “I was really glad to get your owl this morning.”

“I’m glad you had time to meet me,” you told her sincerely.

“Me too. Friday mornings are a bit tamer than usual, despite the mess at the Ministry lately. So what’s been going on?” She brought her coffee to her lips and took a careful, delicate sip as she waited for your answer.

“Oh, plenty,” you told her, putting cream in your own cup of coffee. “My birthday is tomorrow, actually.”

“Oh, happy early birthday!” said Hermione excitedly, grinning at you affectionately over her cup. “Are you doing anything fun?”

“I hope so,” you said, laughing. “Pansy always plans these kinds of things, but I told her I didn’t really want a big party or anything. She probably would have transformed her or Draco’s mansion completely if I had let her have her way. But she did insist that we go out to clubs and go a little crazy. Muggle clubs, actually. We thought it would be more, erm…relaxing that way.”

_Safer_. But you knew Hermione had understood the unspoken word, by the very brief dark shadow that seemed to cross her face. 

“It will be nice to get out of Wizarding Britain, I think,” you continued, trying to give her a bright smile.

“Sounds fun,” said Hermione kindly.

“Yeah…hey, do you want to come? It would be great to have you there.” You really meant it. Since your meeting at the hospital, this was the third time that you had met Hermione Granger for coffee or tea, and you were finding that the more you talked to her, the more you really enjoyed her company.

She looked distinctly uncomfortable. “Oh, well, that’s very kind of you. But I actually…can’t tomorrow.” She smiled again. “Thanks for inviting me, though.”

You had the feeling that she did indeed have the time, but she was too polite to say so. Perhaps she was uncomfortable with being the only Gryffindor among the Slytherins, and you supposed you couldn’t really blame her. You weren’t so sure you would want to go out with just her friends yet either, and they hadn’t even really tormented you in school as the Slytherins had done to her.

Perhaps it had been insensitive to ask.

“Oh, of course, I understand,” you rushed to say, smiling kindly at her. “If you change your mind, you know where to find me.”

“What about the boyfriend?” she asked carefully, glancing up at you again as she took another long sip from her cup. “How are things going with him?”

Your smile slipped away. “Well,” you said, “That’s actually part of the reason I thought we could meet today. I went to break up with him last night, actually.”

“Oh.” She blinked, a little surprised. “That’s…good, right? Didn’t you want to?”

“Yeah.” You let out a breath, aware that tears were filling your eyes and cursing yourself for it. “Yeah, of course it’s good in the end. It just went badly. To say the least.” You lowered your eyes miserably to your table, frowning.

“What happened?” she asked sympathetically, tilting her head.

“There was another woman there. Literally in his bed. Turns out that he had been seeing other women pretty much our entire relationship.” You let out another breath, feeling the air shudder out of your lungs. “It’s stupid, because I was dumping him anyway, but it really feels terrible. I feel…like an idiot, mostly.”

“I’m so sorry,” she said, really looking it, and leaning over and patting your hand for a moment. “And it’s not stupid to feel that way. You were honest with him and he lied to you. Of course that’s not going to feel good.”

“Yeah.” You flicked a stray tear away, impatiently. “I suppose.” You gave her a watery smile. “At least Draco showed up looking for me, so I had help and wasn’t alone. Well, okay, he punched him in the face, actually, and I had to physically drag him away, which was a right pain in the arse…but _after_ that he was a big help. Stayed with me, made me feel better. And I do feel much better this morning.”

She seemed to be trying to contain a knowing smile. “Draco spent the night?”

You groaned. “Not you as well? We’ve been sharing beds since we were kids, Hermione. Nothing ever happens, it’s not like that.”

“Not me as well, what?” Hermione asked, a little too innocently.

“Nothing. Never mind,” you grumbled, aggressively adding more sugar to your coffee, more for something to do with your hands than anything else.

She just laughed. “Has it ever occurred to you that you two are in love?”

“No,” you told her, stubbornly, shaking your head. “He’s my best friend.”

She just shook her head, grinning. “I told myself that with Ron, you know. For a long time. I get it. It’s scary with friends. If you try romance and it doesn’t work, you risk losing the whole relationship. And from what I understand, you and Draco have been best friends even longer than Ron and I have. Closer, too.”

“Yeah, but that’s not – we aren’t – ” you sputtered, unable to finish your sentence, and she just pressed her lips together again, clearly stifling a laugh at your inability to articulate a meaningful argument.

You decided that it was probably time to pointedly changed the subject, so you quickly asked her about work, and listened just a touch too attentively as she told you all about her triumphs and woes at the Ministry that week.

* * *

“ _HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOUUUUUU_!”

You jerked awake, flailing about wildly in shock and gasping as if you had just come up from underwater, and then promptly fell out of your bed and landed on the floor with a loud thud.

There was a gasp, a shout, and then an uproar of laughter, and you felt various hands pulling you up to your feet. You were still tangled in your blanket and half-asleep, so you stumbled a little, and a hand gripped your upper arm, keeping you steady. Bemused, hair mussed and eyes blurred and barely adjusted to the morning light streaming through your window, you squinted around desperately and saw that your group of friends were standing in your room, wearing party hats and screaming the birthday song at the top of their lungs.

“ _HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO Y/N….”_

“ _HAPPY BIRTHDAY TOOOOOO YOUUUUUUU!”_

Pansy knelt down as she sang out the last notes, gesturing her arms at you dramatically, and then came the sounds of the party horns squeaking and honking followed by loud clapping and cheering. 

You rubbed your eyes, blinking furiously, still trying to wake up.

“Draco let us in,” said Daphne, grinning. “Hope you don’t mind.”

“I’ll be sure to keep that in mind when his birthday rolls around,” you grumbled, but a small smile was on your face.

“Oh no. I’ve made a mistake,” came Draco’s teasing voice beside you, feeling his hand squeeze your arm, and you looked up to see his eyes glinting mischievously at you before he reached out to tousle your hair affectionately.

“Hey!” you protested, jerking away and swatting his chest.

“Didn’t do anything. It’s already a mess,” he said, laughing, and you pouted at him.

“Okay, well now that we’ve woken you up in the most wonderful way humanly possible, we’re leaving,” said Pansy. “Daphne and I are making plans and Theo and Blaise are bailing so that Draco can take you to breakfast.”

“What she _means_ to say is that Draco didn’t invite us,” said Blaise, grinning. “He cited the _best friend clause_ , or something equally ridiculous, something about alone time on your birthday - ”

“Uh, yeah, and I’m also not about to buy breakfast for you two. Blaise, you always order the snobbiest and most expensive dishes, and Theo – well, I know how you eat, even if you don’t look it. I’d be buying the whole restaurant,” drawled Draco.

“I don’t see the problem with that, but whatever,” sniffed Theo, shrugging. “We’ll take the hint.”

Precisely one hour later, you were out of your flat – hair significantly less messy and feeling much more ready to be out in public after getting ready, but also incredibly hungry – and then appearing in an alley, where you and Draco turned a corner to a little side street. You’d never been to this part of London before, and you wondered where in the world he was taking you.

It was a medium-size building, slightly run-down, but the colors were bright and charming and it looked cozy. “Best breakfast place I was able to find,” Draco said proudly. “And I did a lot of searching. You have no idea how many breakfast places I have tried the past month.”

“Sounds like a real sacrifice,” you teased.

“Oh, it was. Combing through half of London, eating so much delicious breakfast food…” He shook his head with a mock sigh. “The things I do for you, Y/N, I swear.”

You laughed. “Thank you though. The preparation effort is truly commendable. It slightly makes up for letting the others into my flat to scream-sing at me until I fell out of bed.” And then you saw one of the signs hanging outside the place, and your eyes lit up even more. “Hey! Their specialty is crepes! That’s my fa – oh,” you stopped, seeing his significant look. “Of course you knew that they’re my favorite and that’s another reason you chose this place, I assume.”

“That’s my job,” he said, smiling widely. “It’s in that best friend clause that Blaise mentioned.” And then he took your hand and pulled you inside, and he didn’t let go until you were at your table.

You ordered, of course, crepes, and a coffee, and Draco ordered eggs and sausages and tea, and then when the waiter had scribbled everything down and hurried away, he leaned back in his chair and grinned crookedly at you. “So, birthday girl,” he drawled. “What’s new?”

“You’ve been at my place the past two days, Draco,” you said, laughing. “You literally know everything going on in my life right now.”

“True,” he lamented. “Then I’ll ask another stereotypical birthday question: how does it feel to be another year older and wiser?”

“Horrid,” you joked. “I think I saw a gray hair in the mirror this morning.”

He laughed. “And do you feel wiser?”

“I am definitely wiser,” you said, nodding, as the waiter dropped off your drinks and then left again.

“What makes you say that?” His eyes ranged over your face, and you took a moment to take him in. He was spectacular this morning, truly. He had a dark blue button up shirt, three-quarter sleeves (as always – it was either long or three-quarters with him, never shorter), and light jeans that were tight and emphasized his long legs. Really, it shouldn’t be _allowed_ to look like that.

And then you realized where your thoughts were going and you derailed it quickly.

You shrugged. “I don’t know. Things are going pretty well in my life, aren’t they? You and Daphne are okay after the Gala. I like my work. I’ve got great friends, and I dumped Ethan.” You suddenly laughed. “I think that in itself makes me way smarter already.”

His eyes were now on his tea, and he was mixing in milk, but you saw a small smile turn the corners of his mouth up. “I’d have to agree on that one.”

“You disliked him quite a bit,” you commented curiously, and he looked up, eyes suddenly gleaming with something unrecognizable.

“Yes,” he said simply, picking up his spoon and stirring it.

“Why didn’t you ever tell me?” you burst out.

You had been wondering this ever since you had broken up with Ethan, and honestly, maybe even you had been wondering it a little bit beforehand. You knew they had never truly gotten along, merely tolerated each other at best, but Draco had never once said anything directly to you about it.

He glanced up again, his mouth quirking up to the side, and he raised an amused eyebrow. “Do you really think you would have listened?”

“I – ” You faltered, and then sighed. “Probably not. But you still could have said something. He certainly wasn’t afraid to.” You scowled a little. “Ugh.”

“He wasn’t afraid to what?” He looked curious now.

“Oh, you know. Complain about you,” you said, waving your hand. “He always thought – well, you know what he thought. You heard him,” you finished in a mumble, flushing a little and looking down to add more sugar into your coffee even though it didn’t need more whatsoever, and you shuddered a little at the sweetness when you took a sip.

“I’m sorry to have caused those problems,” he said lightly, though he didn’t sound sorry at all.

“ _You_ didn’t do anything,” you told him heatedly. “That was the whole point. He was just being an asshole. And anyway, promise me that next time you won’t hold back your opinion, okay?”

He blinked. “Next time,” he repeated, quietly.

“Yeah. I mean, I care about your opinion, Draco.”

“Right,” he said, frowning down at his tea and then stirring it slowly with his spoon, not looking up at you for a long time and letting the silence sit rather uncomfortably.

Had you said something wrong? Feeling a little panicked, you tried to think about something to say – anything – that wasn’t the topic of ex-boyfriends, because maybe this wasn’t such an interesting or fun topic for a birthday breakfast, and because he looked rather put out and you wanted to fix it. He, however, spoke up again before you could say anything.

“Why don’t you offer your opinion on the women I see?”

You blinked again, surprised, and he looked up to fix you with an intent look that put your heart in your throat. “I – I don’t know,” you stuttered. “I guess because I don’t know much about them. You don’t really bring women around, so…”

“You knew about Amanda,” he said, shrugging. “You never said anything.”

“I thought that’s casual,” you said, swallowing a lump in your throat and feeling a pang in your chest. If there was anything worse than the topic of Ethan, this was probably it.

“Yes. Still, you never said anything.”

Your heart clenched. “Why would I say something? Amanda’s sweet. If she were…I don’t know, a total bitch, or something, I probably would have said something.”

He smiled a little. “Good to know. But, you know, if you don’t like something or someone, for whatever reason, all you would have to do is say so.” He leaned back again, shrugging casually, but his eyes were intense, holding your gaze almost without blinking.

You stared at him. “What, like some sort of insane veto power over your dates?”

“If that’s what you want, then yes.”

“I can’t – I don’t feel right about that,” you protested.

“Don’t care,” he said, and then he smiled a little, leaning forward to say slowly, “You still have it. If you ever wanted it.” He was still watching you with that trace of something undetectable in his eyes. You just stared at him, heart thudding in your chest even though you couldn’t properly articulate the reasons why under his gaze, which was muddling your brain.

But then the waiter came, and the moment was broken.

You both straightened up, letting him set the plates down in front of you, and when he was gone, Draco again had the casual and easy air about him that he had had when you had first arrived at the restaurant. Relaxing a little, you said, “Do you know what Pansy has planned for tonight?”

He smiled. “Yes.”

“And how nervous do I have to be?”

“Not much,” he said, and at your skeptical look, he added. “Really! Daphne and I did a pretty good job keeping her held back from the really crazy stuff.”

“Good. Because I think that was in the best friend clause too, from what I remember. So if you hadn’t fulfilled that part of the deal, I would have had to terminate the arrangement. And I really don’t want to do that, so that’s a relief.”

He chuckled. “I think the best friend clause also states that I get a bite of your breakfast?”

“I don’t remember that part.”

He lunged forward with his fork and you swatted unsuccessfully at his hand. He emerged victorious with a piece of crepe dripping in chocolate sauce and ate it dramatically, closing his eyes with a sigh, and you couldn’t help but giggle. “You know,” he said, “Your propensity to eat so much sugar in the morning has never failed to astound me. Do you ever eat a substantial breakfast?”

“Don’t nag,” you warned. “It’s not allowed on my birthday.”

He just gave you his most charming smile. “All right, birthday girl. I won’t show any concern for your health, but just for today.”

* * *

“Okay, everyone is here,” said Pansy later that afternoon, clapping her hands together excitedly, and indeed, everyone was gathered in one of the Malfoy Manor living rooms, grinning in anticipation of whatever Pansy had planned. You had to admit you were excited as you saw the gleam in her eye; a little nervous, but excited all the same.

“Phase one can now officially commence,” Pansy announced, with a wicked grin. She pulled out a piece of cloth and threw it at you. “Put it on. Blindfold. Now.”

You caught it, but shot her a distrustful look. “Pansy, the last time you made me wear one of these on my birthday you sat me in a chair and kept slapping a banana in my face and telling me it was a stripper’s penis.”

Blaise snorted loudly with laughter, and Pansy just smiled, shrugging. “No regrets,” she said. “I promise, no bananas. Or penises.”

“Fine.” You put it on, unable to keep from grinning.

You heard her rustle around a bit, and then you felt her thrust something into your hands; to your relief, it was just something paper; a card, most likely, judging from the shape and size of it.

“Okay,” she said gleefully, ripping off your blindfold and watching you excitedly.

On the table in front of you was a battered little hairbrush. In your hands, a stereotypical postcard of Paris, with a picture of the Eiffel Tower on it.

“My gift!” she exclaimed, with a dramatic flourish.

“Er – ” you began, extremely confused.

She rolled her eyes at your inability to grasp what she had given you. “It’s a _Portkey_ , Y/N,” she emphasized, practically bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet in excitement. “We’re going to France for an evening on the city! And then at midnight we come back here for an after party.”

“We’re going to _France_?!” you squeaked. “But hold on…” You glanced over at Draco, biting your bottom lip. “Pansy, how did you do this? We’re…um…not all of us are able to leave England yet, you know, because…”

“If you mean _Draco_ can’t leave England for a few years because that was part of his punishment in his trial for being a Death Eater, then just say so,” said Pansy, rolling her eyes. “Everyone else can go and we aren’t stupid.”

You shot Draco an apologetic look, but he just shrugged, giving you a small smile.

“Anyway,” continued Pansy, rather smugly, “Let’s just say that what the Ministry doesn’t know for nine hours about Draco won’t hurt them.”

“You got an _illegal_ _Portkey_ for my birthday?”

Still, you couldn’t help the smile that was spreading over your face. How wonderful would it be to go somewhere with your friends where you wouldn’t be recognized, somewhere different and exciting and exotic?

“It’s not the only illegal thing we’ll be doing tonight either,” she assured you, grinning, and she and Blaise shared a loud and enthusiastic high-five.

You turned to Draco and Daphne. “Weren’t you supposed to reign her in?!”

“This _was_ reigning her in,” he said, chuckling, and she nodded, sighing.

“Do you not like it?” Pansy was pouting at you.

“It’s – no, Pansy, it’s wonderful,” you told her, giggling. “Really. I’m so honored you would break the law in honor of my birthday.”

“It’s only because I love you,” she said, blowing you a kiss. “So. It leaves in approximately…” She glanced at the large grandfather clock. “Two minutes.”

“Holy shit,” you fretted. “I don’t have anything with me, I – do I need anything?”

“I’ve got it covered,” Daphne assured you, brandishing a bag in her hands.

“Thank Merlin,” you breathed, leaning unconsciously against Draco, who was standing right behind you. Your cheeks warmed when Pansy smirked at the way he slipped one arm almost casually around your waist to help you keep your balance, and you felt your heartbeat pounding in your ears, but you didn’t pull away.

“We arrive in the alley beside our hotel,” she was explaining. “It’s one of those pay by the hour things, since we needed a place to drop off our belongings and we’re not actually staying the night there, so don’t be surprised if we see hookers – ”

“It’s only nine hours,” you said, puzzled, and really _looking_ now at the bag that Daphne was carrying. It was gigantic. “How much can we possibly need to bring?”

Pansy indicated another sizable bag behind her. “I need plenty of material and makeup. Obviously. If we want to get into the good clubs, we’ll have to look exquisite, though if all else fails we can always Confund the bouncers…”

“Oh yeah, well why not perform illegal magic on a Muggle while also bringing an ex Death Eater in a country illegally, against the explicit wishes of the British Ministry?” asked Theo sarcastically, although he too was grinning.

“My thought process exactly, Theo,” said Pansy, ignoring his sarcasm and coming to stand beside you in a flourish. “Okay, everyone, hands on the Portkey.” You all obeyed, crowding around to touch the object until it began to glow; Draco’s arm slipped away and he stood to your left.

You felt a tug of excitement in your gut, followed by the tug of the Portkey.

A yank to the navel, pulling you all forward and to France.

* * *

You, Daphne, and Pansy were currently in what they had dubbed the “girl’s prep room” (and which Theo had cheekily dubbed the “seventh circle of hell”) drinking, chatting, blaring music, and – in your case – allowing them to paint your face and do your hair. You were the last to be done; Daphne and Pansy were all ready to go, and Pansy was putting the finish touches on your face.

Before separating from the others, Pansy had thrown another bag at the boys before pushing them into the room next door, giving them strict instructions to be ready in no later than two hours (” _Two_ _hours_?” they had exclaimed, dumbfounded, but they had accepted their bag and left without another word after Pansy gave them one of her most severe looks).

“Oh, Y/N,” she sighed, sitting in front of you and dabbing mascara on as Daphne stood behind you, using her wand to curl your hair. “You’re going to be the sexist bitch in the club when we are through with you, you know that?”

You grinned. “Good. That’s what I wanted, you know. When I woke up this morning, that was my first thought.” You paused dramatically. “Wait, no. It was my third. The first was: oh fuck that’s loud and who the fuck is in my flat? The second was: ouch, my ass, that really hurt. But the third was definitely that, Pansy. It was: I want to be the sexiest bitch at the club tonight.”

You heard Daphne snort loudly and then dissolve into uncontrollable giggles, laughing probably harder than she normally would have if she had been sober, but then you and Pansy began to laugh at the sound of her snort and her contagious laugh and it grew from there, until all three of you were nearly crying from laughing so hard. “Good thing this shit is waterproof,” Pansy commented, when she was back at hovering with the mascara in front of your eyes.

Daphne poured another glass of wine and set it on the table beside Pansy. By the time they were officially finished with makeup, your cheeks were hot and the room was already tilting a bit.

“Here,” said Pansy then, brandishing a dress in front of you. “For the birthday girl.”

“It’s from me,” said Daphne, winking.

“Oh, sorry, love,” said Pansy, looking at her a little guiltily. “I should have let you give it to her.”

“It’s beautiful,” you told them both, holding it up in awe.

And then you noted just how small it was, just how little of you it would cover, and your cheeks got warmer at facing Draco in such a dress.

You shook yourself a little. Your head swirled. You decided to drain your almost full glass of wine to make yourself braver, because the longer you looked at the dress the more nervous you got. It didn’t have sleeves, either. A typical little black dress that hugged your body, with very high red heels to match. You had never worn something quite so…revealing.

“Do you not like it?” Daphne was watching you carefully, head tilted a little.

“I do! Really. It’s just…um.”

“Meant to seduce,” said Pansy, wiggling her eyebrows.

You rolled your eyes, slurring your words a little when you spoke, already guessing where this was going. “I’m not going to seduce Draco tonight, you two, so please don’t even start with that.”

“What? Neither of us said anything about Draco,” said Pansy, smirking as she shimmied effortlessly into her own dress, a glittering thing that hugged her curves perfectly and with sleeves that rested off her shoulders. You were quite sure that you had never looked that graceful sliding into a tight dress.

“Yes, that one came from your own mind, Y/N,” giggled Daphne, and they shot each other a look.

“Um,” you began, feeling curiously lightheaded and unable to argue with all of the drinks in you. And, in fact, you weren’t sure you could argue. Every time you even so much as thought about Draco butterflies were starting to erupt in your stomach, your heartbeat would accelerate, and you felt almost dizzy in his presence, especially when he was too close.

Pansy was grinning, but she didn’t say anything more on the subject. “Here, come here. I’ll help zip you.” She held out her hands and pulled you to your feet from where you sat on the bed. You swayed a little, and then you stripped down to your underwear and pulled the dress over you, then turned obediently so Pansy could zip. “Take a look, Y/N,” she said, turning you to the mirror.

At first you only saw Daphne’s reflection, sitting behind you on the bed and giving you a radiant smile. And then you saw the woman in the mirror.

Was that really you?

It must have been, because she was holding herself exactly the way you were, and she was looking just as shocked as you currently felt.

Pansy had given you dark, dramatic makeup, let your hair tumble in loose curls that gave just the right appearance of effort and lack of effort; the black dress stopped midway between your thighs and knees and your legs looked much longer because of it, and, of course, because of the high heels.

You just stared for a few moments, taken aback.

“Are you sure?” you squeaked finally, turning to look at them with a hint of panic in your eyes. “This dress seems a little – ”

“Don’t look more if you’re going to back out, and not another word of insecurity,” shushed Pansy, pulling you away from the mirror and your doubts. “You look great.”

“Amazing,” chimed in Daphne.

“Very fuckable,” said Pansy, nodding.

You couldn’t help but laugh and then walked over to Daphne, who was holding out a glass of wine, and accepted it. A knock then sounded at the door, a light tap, and Pansy stood, laughing. “They’re probably coming to complain at how long it’s taking us,” she said, and walked over to dramatically swing open the door as you took a huge sip of wine.

“Why, don’t you clean up nicely,” said Pansy, and you glanced up from your drink and nearly choked at seeing Draco standing in the door frame.

If you had thought he was stunning that morning at the restaurant, this truly was something else. His suit was simple, really, just a dark gray, but it made his eyes seem about ten times brighter, even from this distance. Seeing him in formal wear was nothing new, but…

_Fuck_.

Your brain buzzed as he stepped inside, barely glancing at Pansy or Daphne and instead simply staring at you, standing there beside Daphne. The look on his face was rather stunned, as if someone had indeed pulled out their wand and shot the Stunning spell at him but he had yet to fall over to the ground. You were unsure how to react to such awed scrutiny, so you alternated between shooting shy glances at him and the floor, but you still didn’t miss the sweep that his eyes did over your entire frame, lingering on your hips with a light in his eyes that made you unable to breathe.

“What, no compliment for me, Draco?” called Pansy sarcastically, breaking the long pause, moving her hands to her own hips and dramatically striking a pose. She was smirking, and Daphne was biting her lip, amused.

He seemed to recover his composure. “Very lovely, Pansy,” he said, rolling his eyes. “I came to borrow the birthday girl, if I might. I realized I still need to give her my gift.”

“She’s all yours,” said Daphne, pushing you a little and slipping the wine glass out of your hand.

He held out his hand and you grabbed it almost automatically, and as you closed the door behind you, you saw Pansy wiggling her eyebrows and giving you a thumbs up, and Daphne was shooting you a mischievous grin. You just rolled your eyes at them and closed the door quickly. Draco turned the other direction and began tugging you along the hall, away from his room.

“Wh-where are we going?” you slurred, and he threw you an entertained look.

“How much have you all been drinking?”

“A lot. I can’t feel my nose,” you said, wrinkling it experimentally.

He chuckled. “You’ll see.”

As you approached the end of the hall, a member of the hotel staff came hurrying around the corner with a bottle of whiskey in his hand, and upon seeing Draco, his eyes lit up and he held up the whiskey with an enthusiastic gesture, and then said…something. You didn’t know, because it was in French, but you assumed that the boys had ordered some of their finest whiskey and he was asking Draco about it, based on the context. And then Draco was replying in French, flawlessly, and you just stood there, gaping at him like an idiot and suddenly feeling very warm all over.

When the conversation finally stopped, your heart rate was going far too fast and you swore that your knees were about to give way, so you leaned your weight on him even more as you continued your walk to wherever he was taking you.

This was normal, wasn’t it? 

Everyone was teasing you about him, and also, it had been a couple weeks since you had had sex, and months and months since you had had _good_ sex.

So it was okay to find him attractive. That was a fine thing to think about your friends, wasn’t it? So this was all okay. Normal. Natural that you’d feel a little jittery considering all the other factors. It didn’t mean anything. You just needed to sober up a little and if he started speaking French again you would take off your high heels and starting running the opposite direction.

Your inebriated brain, however, clearly had other ideas about forgetting about his foreign language skills, because you mumbled, “Your F-French is ridiculous. Do you use it to pick up women in England?” You hiccuped.

He looked down at you, eyebrows raised a little in surprise. “No.”

“Well, it would work,” you grumbled, stumbling a little.

His arm tightened around your side. “Would it?” he murmured, his voice was closer to your ear than you had anticipated, and you shivered a little. You didn’t dare look up at him. It wouldn’t do to jump your best friend tonight because you were a drunken idiot. A teasing lilt had entered his tone. “How very _interesting_.” He turned, leading you purposefully down another long hall. “Which phrase should I use, then? This one – ” he said something quite long – “or this one?” And then he said something else, even longer.

“Stop it,” you told him, shaking your head. “Stop that right now.”

He sounded incredibly amused. “Is it bothering you?”

“Yes,” you grumbled. “I don’t know what you’re saying.”

Laughing under his breath, he began helping you up a flight of stairs with some difficulty, and thankfully, he didn’t press the subject or say anything else in French. He took you up so many flights of stairs that you were starting to complain. “One more flight,” he said. “It’s worth it, I promise.”

He ended up taking you to the roof of the hotel, and he propped the door open behind you while you found yourself slowly walking over to the ledge to look out, eyes wide. It was a glorious sight up here. You hadn’t seen much of the city yet, and the hotel itself wasn’t unnaturally tall, but it was enough to give you a breathtaking view of the city; the glittering lights and chaos of traffic winding through the streets, the smells and noises that were so distinctly like a city and still foreign and exciting, and how the ancient architecture seemed to glow in the fading light of the evening.

“Wow,” you breathed when Draco joined you, placing his hands on the ledge.

“Yes,” he murmured, sounding pensive.

You glanced over out of the corner of your eye to look at him. It was safer to do out here. It wasn’t dark up here, exactly, because of all the city lights, and his silhouette was still illuminated from the lights behind him, standing there tall and regal and thoughtful.

Your heart did a cartwheel in your chest when he turned to face you, smiling.

“I have something for you,” he said finally, softly. “For your birthday.”

Before you could say anything – you had opened your mouth to do so, but words were failing you at the moment, as your brain was quite preoccupied with how he looked standing there in that suit of his – he had pulled a box out of his pocket and opened it, eyes scanning your face carefully.

The bracelet inside was beautiful. It was exquisitely polished, an intertwining of silver with emerald stones. Not flashy. Quite a simple design, really, which you preferred. You could tell just by looking at it that it would literally be the most expensive thing you owned. Your breathing practically stopped and you started to shake your head, unable to comprehend such a marvelous gift.

“I-I can’t take that,” you whispered, staring down at it in fascination and awe.

“Do you not like it?” His hands pulled back a little, uncertain.

“No! It’s _beautiful_ ,” you assured him, the words tumbling out clumsily as you touched his arm earnestly and glancing up to look at him to see that he was now smiling at your response. “But it’s – that looks like it’s worth…”

“Don’t worry about that,” he said impatiently, eyes searing into yours. There was a long pause in which you couldn’t look away from his eyes and the undeniable urge to yank him by that crisp suit and kiss him silly swept over you. A lump formed in your throat, rendering you unable to speak, and he chuckled a little, throatily, at the look on your face. “And anyway,” he said lightly. “I didn’t buy it. It’s a Malfoy family heirloom. Been in the family for eight generations.”

“ _What_?” you exclaimed, thunderstruck. The lump in your throat grew tighter, and the nervous fluttering of butterflies erupted tenfold at the significance of this gift – gifting a family heirloom this old was rare indeed. “Draco, I really can’t…”

“You _can_ ,” he said firmly, cutting off your protests and taking the bracelet out of the box and holding it out toward your wrist with a look that was half stern and half tender, “And you will. Just give me your hand, Y/N.”

Shaking a little, you held out your wrist so that he could carefully clasp the bracelet onto your wrist, where it fit perfectly and gleamed when it caught a distant light. Something about the way that he so carefully clipped it to your wrist, the concentrated way that he was furrowing his eyebrows, did strange things to your chest, and the fluttering in the pit of your stomach only intensified exponentially when he straightened up to examine at it there on your wrist, his eyes flashing momentarily with something that looked undeniably like satisfaction before looking up at you with a crooked, lazy smile. “It suits you,” he said smoothly, eyes glinting in the darkness.

“I…I don’t know what to say, Draco,” you admitted hoarsely, wishing your hands would stop shaking. “Thank you doesn’t seem to really feel like enough.”

He just grinned at you. “Happy birthday, Y/N.” He paused, his eyes doing another sweep over you, and suddenly you felt a heat rush through your veins that had nothing to do with all the drinks you had already consumed that evening. “And I really should have told you already,” he murmured, sounding hesitant and his voice lowering a couple of octaves, “That you look…” He shook his head, looking vaguely punch-drunk, and then smiled up at you. “I can’t even describe it,” he confessed with a little laugh, running a hand through his hair.

_He’s nervous,_ you realized, recognizing that familiar motion of his, even with your foggy brain. Your heart was pounding so loudly that you were sure that he would be able to hear it from where he was standing.

_Tell him_ , a voice in your brain suddenly nagged as you stood there, both staring into the other’s face. The air between you was heavy. Electric, almost. _Tell him_ , the voice continued. _Tell him_ _you have feelings for him. Or kiss him. He’s so close, really. All you would have to do is lean forward_ …

Because you knew now.

Pansy had been right. Daphne, too. Hermione, even. You were madly, hopelessly in love with him, and suddenly risking everything to tell him didn’t seem so crazy. Not when he was standing there, looking at you with that look on his face.

“Um,” you began, voice a little choked. “I…”

He tilted his head at you, waiting.

And then he took your hands in his, squeezing them, rubbing his thumbs over the backs of your hands, and that did nothing whatsoever to calm your nerves. In fact, it only made them worse. “Is everything all right?” he asked, looking vaguely concerned.

“I – ” you faltered, losing your resolve.

_Not like this, after all the drinks. Not here, not now._

“I’m grateful for you, Draco,” you whispered, feeling disappointed in yourself but also relief at the safety of your answer. “I don’t think I’ve ever explicitly told you…I just…I really hope that you know just how important you are to me.” 

It was very difficult to get the words out. First, because you were drunk. And secondly, because of the way his eyes began to change as you spoke. They blazed. Like pools of warm silver. And then he gently took your hand again, brought your hand up to his lips, and kissed your knuckles, just the softest brush. 

And when he pulled away, he murmured, “ _Et t_ _u es tuot por moi_.”

A loud voice from the doorway made you both jump.

“Oi! It’s time to go, are you two coming down, or what?”

Draco stiffened and straightened up, looking around at the sound, and you also glanced over to see Theo standing in the open doorway, and his face suddenly transformed into a sheepish expression as he met Draco’s eyes. “Oh. Er – sorry. Am I interrupting something?”

“No,” you said, too quickly, turning away from Draco with heated cheeks. You determinedly avoided his eyes and began stumbling toward the door, figuring you could use all the time you could get to make your way over there in these shoes.

“We’re doing a round of shots beforehand,” said Theo. He rose an eyebrow as he watched you walk. “Although, Y/N, you don’t look like you need it,” he drawled, laughing. “You’re even worse than Daphne and Pansy, and I thought _they_ were drunk as shit.” He looked over your shoulder. “Draco, hurry up. She’s going to twist her ankle if you don’t practically carry her down these stairs.”

In almost no time at all, Draco was behind you, his hand gently resting on the small of your back to guide you out the door and then slipping his hand around your waist to help you carefully down the stairs.

You didn’t look up at him, and your hands still hadn’t stopped shaking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warnings: language, sexual themes


	11. Eleven, Part One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Birthday Shenanigans, part two.

It was a weekend, and the streets of Paris were very much alive.

Not only was it a foreign country, but it wasn’t incredibly often that any of you got out and about in Muggle London, much less Muggle Paris. 

You watched the traffic weave the streets in slight awe as the group of you made your way toward Pansy’s first club choice – it was much different here, watching the cars and bicycles and scooters whiz by close up rather than from the rooftop of the hotel. It was chaotic, and it was loud, and the effect was heightened greatly by your alcohol intake. You passed countless shops; smelled delicious food when you walked by restaurants, mixing with the smell of cigarettes from the customers sitting outdoors, watching you walk by; heard pieces of conversations in French, but also sometimes English, or Arabic, or German.

You discreetly peeked over your shoulder at Draco, who was walking behind you, Daphne, and Pansy with Theo and Blaise. He and Theo were laughing about something, which you quickly realized was Blaise, who was blowing kisses at girls on the street and was receiving giggles and stares in response.

As if he could feel your eyes, he glanced up – when he saw you looking he just grinned, and rolled his eyes in Blaise’s direction. You smiled back and turned back around, trying hard not to stumble in the process.

“These streets are confusing,” grumbled Pansy. “But I think it should be nearby.”

“What are those things they all have in their hands?” Daphne asked, curiously.

You had been wondering the same thing. The Muggles had these rectangular little devices, and almost _all_ of them seemed to have one. They sometimes gazed down at them as they walked, tapping around on it, fingers flying; sometimes they had things attached to their ears that were coming out of them, and once, you saw a group of girls crowd together, pose as if for a picture, then gather around to peer down at it excitedly, talking and laughing.

“Camera?” you guessed, though that didn’t seem quite right. Not just.

“Then what’s in their ears?” Daphne murmured, curiosity lighting up her face.

“Yes! This is it,” said Pansy, gesturing excitedly to the name of the street on the corner of a building, leading to a smaller side street. Already you could make out groups of people loitering about on the street, laughing, chatting, and drinking – there was a long line down the street.

“All right,” said Pansy. “This one is popular, and it’ll be hopping already, even though it’s early. So stick out your chests, ladies, because it’s time to get us in.”

The six of you approached one of the bouncers. He did not seem pleased that you were coming straight to the front of the line, though his eyes swept over the three women with a definite interest, and perhaps he had already identified you as a group of people that were clearly used to getting into the best sort of places. Pansy began speaking French with him, and he said something back, in a surly sort of voice. She didn’t back down, however, and kept talking, arguing, negotiating – the bouncer asked a question, and looked at her, expectantly.

She rolled her eyes and turned to face the group. “He wants to know what I can give him to get us in there. Probably expecting money. Idiot.” Then she turned, and in one fluid motion, she had pulled the dress down from the top, flashing the bouncer for a full five seconds before pulling her dress up again, eyebrow arched.

The bouncer was laughing, gleeful, and people at the front of the line were hooting and hollering. Shaking his head and still chuckling, the bouncer stepped back and let the six of you in without further comment.

“Men,” muttered Pansy, while the rest of you chortled, and then she grinned.

“Y/N, go with Theo to the bar and order things. The rest of us will find us a table,” Pansy instructed, and you happily complied.

You and Theo sidled up to the bar, and Theo leaned casually against it, tapping his fingers as he waited for the bartender to come over to the two of you. “So,” he said, eyes glinting mischievously, “You ready to get even more fucked up, or what?”

“Sure,” you told him, smiling. You had sobered up a bit on the walk over, which had taken nearly half an hour; but not much.

“Good. Because here’s my birthday present.” He turned to face the bartender, who had now arrived. “You speak English?” The bartender nodded, a little wary at the way Theo was bouncing on the balls of his feet, excitedly drunk. “Great. Look. For the next three hours, I want to buy out this bar.”

The bartender just stared. “For…you and your friends?”

“No. The whole place. Everyone.”

The bartender began to smile, and then he laughed. “Done.”

When you made your way to the table and slid in next to Blaise, you didn’t look up to meet Draco’s eyes. It was strange, not knowing how to act around him. You’d probably been in love with him for months, if not actual years. But being really _aware_ of it was something else, especially when you were this intoxicated and he looked like _that_.

You chanced a glance up at him. He was already looking.

Hastily, you tapped Daphne’s arm and pointed elsewhere. “See? Look. I think they’re cameras.” Another group was taking yet another photo on the dance floor. The device flashed and you both stared, mesmerized.

Drinks were brought. Three rounds of shots were taken and another cocktail consumed by the women before Pansy stood and grabbed you and Daphne. “Dancing,” was all she said, and you both obliged, standing and feeling the world tilt, and following her out into the crowd and out of view from your table.

The dance floor was crowded, and there were lights flashing that made you even more dizzy, but you found you rather liked it; and you began to relax, let go, shake you hips and move to the beat of the music, which was so loud it was rattling your very bones. You couldn’t stop smiling; you hadn’t felt this carefree in months, and it felt good. People pressed against you from all sides as the dance floor became fuller, jostling you, swaying you, and the people around you – _Muggles_ , you remembered suddenly, for a moment completely fascinated by this fact – would sometimes shout appreciation at a new song, or sing the lyrics together to the most popular ones.

It was another world, another culture you didn’t understand, but it was fun to take part anyway. You really wished that you would have done it earlier.

More people had joined your group, or at least were dancing near you – and now there was a young woman talking to Pansy, gesturing with that rectangular device, and Pansy was watching with her eyes completely hazy but also awestruck. She suddenly stepped forward and said, directly into your ear, “I NEED one of these things, Y/N! Oh my _god_!” And then, the strange woman slid off through the crowd, and Pansy grabbed Daphne by the arm and yanked her through the crowd, leading her away.

“Pansy!?” you called after her, but of course it was far too loud for her to hear you. “Daph!” Should you have followed them?

You couldn’t see them anymore. You could hardly see anything, because of how congested the dance floor was and the flashing of colorful lights. You didn’t much want to stay out here all alone, so you were just about to try and weave your way through the crowd and make your way back to your table when two hands reached out and grabbed you on your waist and begun to move upward, uncomfortably close to your breasts.

A man’s voice behind you spoke in French, far too close to your ear, his breath tingling your neck and giving you goosebumps of discomfort. He was trying to dance with you, but you were beginning to pull yourself out of his grasp, which was proving difficult to do. He was holding on tightly, and you didn’t have your full wits about you, so when you finally broke free, you stumbled a little, turning quickly to face him.

He stepped forward, reaching out for you with a drunken smile, saying something else in French, and you tried to back away quickly, with much difficulty, before you bumped right into something solid.

You recognized the scent of Draco’s cologne before you felt him sweep you behind him with one arm, stepping forward to place himself between you and the stranger. He was saying something in French, and he sounded angry; the other man replied, looking surly, but with a certain fire in his response all the same. This back and forth happened a few times, getting more heated with each exchange, and all you could do was watch, confused and biting your lip, until the man finally scowled deeply and turned, disappearing into the crowd.

Draco turned and looked at you standing there, looking nervous, and he just gave you a reassuring smile before firmly taking your upper arm and guiding you away, weaving with you through the dancing people. Finally, you broke free from the middle of the crowd, and then you were out of the dancers completely and were heading back to your table.

“Th-thank you,” you slurred, as soon as you knew he could hear you.

“Anytime,” he said calmly, though when you glanced up at him you noticed that his eyes were anything but calm. They were blazing.

“What d-did he say?”

His grip tightened on your arm, and for a second his face contorted in anger before he was able to smooth it out. “Don’t worry about that, Y/N.”

“Why not?” you pressed, frowning, stumbling again and leaning against him.

His arm came automatically around your waist. “Because it wasn’t appropriate,” he replied, roughly.

“Oh,” you said, in a small voice. And then you remembered. “Draco! Pansy and D-Daphne, they left…with some girl…to get one of those r-rectangles…”

“What?” He glanced down at you, eyes swimming with confusion. “Rectangles? Merlin, you’re plastered…”

“Yes, the rectangles,” you said again, insistent. “They take pictures with them and…and lots of other things. P-Pansy said she wanted one, and then she took Daphne and left.”

“Leaving you alone,” he muttered under his breath, more for himself than for you.

Pansy and Daphne were not at the table, however, and after nearly forty minutes of sitting at the table, snacking and drinking, you were beginning to worry. Draco’s gray eyes, too, were flicking about, constantly searching, concern growing in them as more time went on, and Theo and Blaise were just about to get up and do another round of the place and ask near the girl’s bathroom when suddenly, they appeared.

That same girl was with them, and Pansy was brandishing one of the rectangles in her hand triumphantly. “I got one!” she shouted, gleefully, nearly falling over on her way to the table. “I got a fucking iPhone! This thing is fucking _amazing_ , you lot, seriously – ”

“Pansy, you can’t just run off like that,” said Theo, incredulous. “What if something had happened to you two? Where did you even go?”

“Oh, relax!” she said, giggling. “We went to a shop a few streets away, Emilie took us there…” She gestured to the woman with them as she slid into an armchair and pulled Daphne onto her lap, where they began tapping around, fascinated, on the iPhone, which lit up their faces with a white light.

Emilie was a dark-haired, dark-eyed, short and petite little woman – a _Muggle_ , you realized with a jolt – and she smiled around at you all with a little wave. She seemed quite sober, comparatively speaking. “Sorry,” she said, looking a little sheepish. “I didn’t know stealing these two would cause worry. They’re a real riot, aren’t they?”

“You’re telling us,” drawled Blaise. “Want to join us?”

She just smiled at him and slid into the seat next to Draco; you were seated on his other side, and though there was room for her next to him, there was plenty of other room on the other side. Much more room, really. And she was peeking up at Draco with a distinct interest in her brown eyes, which you suddenly realized you did not like one bit.

“How is it that you lot don’t have a phone? How do you even survive?”

You all glanced at each other, vaguely panicked. “Old fashioned,” grunted Theo finally, which seemed to be the right answer, or at least one that was satisfactory enough, because she just furrowed her eyebrows, still obviously very confused, but didn’t say anything else on the subject.

“How is it that your English is so good?” Draco asked, smiling at her.

Was he _flirting_?

You shifted uncomfortably at the tone of his voice, which in your opinion was far too friendly, and then you reached for another shot.

“Oh, I actually studied up in England,” she said happily. “And I have family that lives up there too, so I still use the language quite often.”

Her smile was radiant and charming, and you found yourself scowling more and more as the conversation went on drinks continued arriving. After some time, she began putting her hand on his arm when she answered his questions, and you bristled, glaring. Daphne finally looked up from her and Pansy’s new toy, caught your eye, and seemed to comprehend based on the expression on your face in a matter of seconds what was going on. “Hey,” she said suddenly, “Let’s go out and dance again one last time before heading to the next place? I love this song.”

“Me too!” squealed Emilie. “Great idea.” She stood, though she was looking rather questioningly at Draco.

“I’ll stay,” you mumbled, turning back to your drink and stirring it distractedly with your straw. You did not want to witness them dancing together.

“I’m with the birthday girl,” said Draco simply, nudging you, and you looked up to see him smiling down at you. Your body felt suddenly weightless, and some of the tension in you eased.

“Oh, happy birthday!” exclaimed Emilie, grinning at you.

“Thanks,” you said, giving her a smile back. She, Pansy, Daphne, and Blaise disappeared into the crowd, leaving you alone at the table with Draco and Theo. Theo, however, stood very suddenly. “I’m going to close out my tab, since we’ll be leaving soon…”

As soon as Theo had left, Draco drawled, “What’s going on in that pretty head, hmm?”

You blinked, surprised. You had just realized that his voice had a very distinct slur – he was intoxicated. It was quite rare to see him get drunk to the point where he actually spoke differently, but tonight seemed to be an exception.

“What do you mean?” you mumbled back, feeling your cheeks get warm.

“Something is…on your mind,” he said, with some difficulty.

If you would have been sober, you wouldn’t have said it. You would have kept the boundary. As it was, you had piss-poor judgment, and the words tumbled out of their own accord. “Do _not_ fuck her,” you said, surprised by how dark and fierce you sounded. 

Huh. That was not the tone you had intended to use at all. Really, you hadn’t meant to say it in the first place.

He stared for a long few seconds, his mouth opening a little as he gazed at you in shock. And then his mouth began to turn into a slow smile, which for some reason only irritated you more. 

“What?” you snapped, tempted to take your drink and launch it into his face.

“Oh? Why not?” His eyes were hazy, but intent upon yours.

“You said I have veto power,” you answered stoutly, crossing your arms.

He laughed, but his eyes were soft. “Yes, I did. But Y/N, I wasn’t interested.”

“Oh,” you mumbled, and then you picked up your drink and knocked the rest of it back all at once so that you wouldn’t have to look at him. You could sense him opening his mouth beside you, about to say something else, but before he could get the words out, Pansy’s voice called out loudly from your left. She had come back with Daphne and Blaise in tow.

“Next club!” she sang out, cheeks flushed. “Finish up your drinks and…where’s Theo?”

“Paying the tab,” Draco muttered, turning slowly toward her.

“Great,” she said. “Number two, here we come!”

* * *

The Portkey left Paris at exactly midnight, and it was an absolute miracle that you all made it in time. Pansy usually had impeccable timing, but by that point everyone was so drunk that you had gotten lost stumbling through the cobblestone streets after – what was it, the third club, right? Oh fuck it, your head was spinning, it didn’t matter – and then you had all practically sprinted to the hotel room (the girls, after a minute or so, ripped their high heels off impatiently and just ran barefoot through the streets without them, and really it was a miracle no one stepped on any glass). Haphazardly and quickly, you all gathered your belongings and were finally able to grab the little Portkey just as it was beginning to glow blue.

Of course, midnight was much too early to stop the party, so it continued at Malfoy Manor just as Pansy had promised. Blaise and Theo gleefully supplied more alcohol, and it began with two raucous drinking games of King’s Cup. Blaise lost the first and you lost the second, and you stared with drunken horror at the King’s Cup as everyone began laughing and jeering. Pansy, Daphne, and Theo had each poured a bit of their drink in when pulling the other three King’s cards, so it was a truly awful mixture of margarita (Pansy), red wine (Daphne), and whiskey (Theo).

“I c- _can’t_ ,” you whined finally, taking a tentative smell of it and shaking your head furiously, feeling like you might hurl.

“No way you’re backing out,” growled Blaise. “I drank mine.”

“Oh M-Merlin,” you whispered. You hiccuped twice.

“Plug your nose,” suggested Theo. “It helps.”

Pansy sprang to her feet with surprising speed (even if she did almost fall over), and said, “I’ll get the birthday cake! Then the taste can be out of your mouth right away,” she said, and did a strange mixture of jumping and dancing off to the kitchen, humming loudly to herself.

“Knock it back, Y/N,” slurred Draco from beside you, looking amused. His eyes were so very hazy. Even as completely and utterly shitfaced as you were, you knew that you had never seen him this drunk before. It took a lot to get he, Theo, and Blaise to this point, but you thought you vaguely remembered that Blaise had bought out the entire bar at the second and third place, so it wasn’t so surprising that they also were completely gone.

You finally bit the bullet and did it, shuddering and coughing, even though you plugged your nose; and everyone cheered and clapped and laughed, and true to her word, Pansy came back out of the kitchen carrying the cake, and no one bothered singing before digging in.

The world was spinning, and you had a very stupid grin on your face. But you weren’t the only one. Everyone else looked the same, and when you caught Draco’s eye beside you he just laughed, a carefree laugh that really only occurred when he was drunk, and he nudged you. You nudged him back.

Pansy made a grand gesture with a bottle of cinnamon vodka, and you carried on playing little games, laughing, and talking well into the early hours of the morning – it was nearly three when you stood up, intending to go and get another slice of cake, but the world spun violently and you tipped right over to the side and landed on the ground with a dull thud.

There was a huge roar of laughter, and you distantly heard Theo say, “I think birthday girl is done.”

“I wanted c-cake,” you mumbled, which only caused more laughter.

“Come on,” you heard Draco say from beside you, chuckling, and you felt him reach out and hauled you to your feet. You leaned on him for support and he placed a secure arm around your shoulders. “You need to…sleep.” His words were choppy and slow, and he seemed to have difficulty stringing them together, but he was still able to help you walk, and together, you stumbled off down the hall with the others waving and calling out goodnight.

“Consequences tomorrow,” was all you could muster, thinking of that horrid cinnamon vodka as you neared his bedroom.

He groaned loudly. “Don’t. I…know.” He heaved a great sigh and stopped clean in his tracks for a moment, closing his eyes. “No next time,” he finally mumbled, turning to look at you very intently.

“What?” You gazed back, confused.

“No next time!” he insisted, more heatedly, and you just nodded, uncomprehending but in no state to decipher what exactly he was talking about. He seemed satisfied with this, however, because when you started walking again he clumsily fell into step beside you.

When you got to his door, he opened it and you both staggered in. He closed it, and you leaned against the wall. Your heels were already off, but you began to squirm, trying to reach up your back for your zipper, half forgetting that he was in the room and just wanting this thing off and something loose and soft and comfortable on instead, so you could flop onto the bed and sleep.

“What are you…doing?” he stuttered, and you paused in your desperate attempts to catch your zipper, looking up to see him standing a few feet away, frozen right beside the closed door and watching you with wide eyes.

“Uncomfortable,” you mumbled, frowning in irritation at the confines of the dress. “Do you have…can I wear…something?”

He swallowed. “Yes,” he whispered, looking a little dazed.

You turned around slowly. When he didn’t take the hint, you insisted, “Help,” looking severely over your shoulder at him.

He approached you slowly, as if he were in a trance. You turned your head back around, staring at the wall and waiting for him to unzip you so that you could finally get this bloody thing off; but when you felt the softest touch of his fingertips fumbling with your zipper, the body heat radiating off of him, only inches behind you, and his warm breath tickling the back of your neck, you were suddenly wide awake. Like a burst of adrenaline to the system, you realized, even if it was still a foggy and extremely drunken realization, the situation that you were in and with who.

You jumped away automatically and spun around, gazing wide-eyed at him. He, too, jolted at your sudden movement, and then held up his hands uncertainly as if caught in the act of something incredibly treacherous, eyes also wide as he watched you. “Sorry,” he slurred quickly. “Did you not want…?”

“No,” you mumbled, rather embarrassed by your sudden reaction and turning slowly back around. “It’s okay. Just…surprised.”

But your blood was fire in your veins as he unzipped you. Your heartbeat was painful, and you had a strange, clumsily heightened awareness of his every movement. You held the fabric at the front so that it wouldn’t fall, bunched to your chest, and then you waited while he stumbled over to a drawer and came back, handing you one of his shirts and turning around to let you change with a sharp sort of exhale. You turned as well so that you could slip the shirt over your head; it was huge, one of his large pajama shirts, and it came down almost to your knees. You sighed, so happy at having off that tight thing and thinking fondly of the warm blankets that awaited you. 

And then you heard a swift movement of fabric, and you turned to see that he was slipping off his shirt.

_Oh no._

He had no right looking like that when you were trying so hard not to jump him. _No right_. His pale skin was beautiful, glowing in the tiny bit of light coming from the window, and you could make out the various scars on his chest and stomach – from the cuts in 6th year, and most recently from his burns.

_You’ve seen it before_ , you reminded yourself curtly. _He’s just changing, just like you. Go to bed_.

And so you stumbled past him, determinedly not looking as you heard his belt buckle as he changed out of his dress pants until he was wearing a set of soft, dark green pajamas. Instead, you flopped violently onto the bed with a groan, face down into the pillow and feeling your heart racing.

You heard him chuckle, heard his footsteps move around the bed, and then felt his weight and the covers shifting as he slid into the bed beside you. Close. Closer. Right behind you.

_Much too close._

With a happy sounding sigh, he draped one arm over your hip and buried his face in your hair.

_This isn’t new_ , you reminded yourself. _It’s normal. Relax._

And indeed it wasn’t new. If you didn’t fall asleep this way when sharing a bed with Draco, you often woke up this close. But your brain was too muddled and his presence too distracting for you to relax completely. He seemed to be able to sense this, for he murmured, voice muffled by your hair, “Y/N…Are you…okay?” When he spoke it tickled the back of your neck again.

“Mhm,” was all you were able to manage.

“You used veto,” he slurred, and you heard a smile in his voice.

“Yes,” you whispered back.

He shifted even closer; he was so, so warm and comfortable, wrapped around you like this, and with you leaning back against his chest. It was lowering your defenses, and your barely functional brain obviously wasn’t helping one bit. “Why?” he murmured into your ear, sounding desperately curious.

“She was…annoying me,” you muttered, stiffly. “Kept touching you and…and batting her eyelashes.”

He laughed very softly, a breathy, amused laugh. “It sounds to me,” he said, still stumbling slightly over the words due to his drunken stupor – and indeed, you could smell the mixed scents of scotch and whiskey coming from him, “That you think she was flirting.”

“She w- _was_ ,” you insisted, indignant. “And so were you.” Your voice was bitter.

“Maybe she was.” You felt him shrug, unconcerned.

You just grumbled a little under your breath and shifted a little in his hold.

And then your heart stopped, for you felt his lips press into the side of your neck. Carefully, slowly, and it was so very sensual and so obviously _not_ platonic that you felt your entire body seize up and then get very, very warm. Too warm. “But I wasn’t,” he whispered finally. “Not with her.”

You felt your incredibly weak resolve snap and then crumble to dust, and before you had really registered what you were doing, you had whipped over to your other side to face him, grabbed the sides of his neck, and kissed him fiercely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> language, sexual themes, creepy cliche club dude, lots of alcohol, DRAMA and tension


	12. Eleven, Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Please read the warnings in the notes at the end if there is something you want to be warned away from!! I will not put them here and spoil! This is an adult chapter!!

He tasted like whiskey and scotch and smelled like his cologne. 

His skin was soft under your fingertips but you ran your hands over his cheekbones and his jawline, marveling at the hard edges of him. He was responding to your kiss with tremendous enthusiasm, tilting his head to kiss you deeper, and fiercely, over and over, and you pressed yourself as close as you possibly could to him, but it wasn’t enough. His hands were everywhere – in your hair, on your face, your neck, your back, your hips – and everywhere they touched, a tingling erupted and spread, like fire in your veins.

He caught your bottom lip between his teeth, just for a few seconds, nibbling gently, and you couldn’t help the faintest of whimpers that escaped from your throat before you pulled him so that you were lying on your back and he was on top of you, still kissing you desperately. It was almost, wild, really, the way you were kissing each other, hands grabbing and pulling and roaming, and your breathing started to accelerate until it was coming in only pants and bursts; but still you kept coming back to his lips rather than stop for more air. His body pressed against yours, the weight of him on you, was so tantalizing that you arched your back a little with a sigh to feel more of him.

A low growl rumbled in his chest, and he wove his hands through your hair and gripped handfuls of it like he was holding onto his sanity; and he kissed you harder.

And then his lips were on your neck, kissing every inch of it that he could reach, and his hands were on your hips and moving upward, under your shirt and placing them gently on your stomach. You squirmed under his touch on your bare skin; felt all the heat begin to pool below your navel.

Reaching out with clumsy fingers, you pulled at the bottom of his shirt and he sat up enough for it slip successfully over his head; but he was only absent for a second, tossing it to the side before descending on you again, capturing your mouth in another hungry kiss. His hands returned to your stomach, tracing patterns with his hands that made you sigh into his mouth, and then you felt his hands slowly rolling up the bottom of your shirt, stopping it at your rib cage.

He pulled away suddenly, stopped kissing you; you were just about to protest or pull him back to your lips when you realized that he had ducked his head and placed a soft kiss on your stomach.

You gasped, arching your back until at least half of it was off the bed. If his hands had caused an eruption of tingles on your stomach, it was nothing compared to the feeling of his lips there. You were practically on fire by this point, pressing your legs together to try and relieve some of the tension and the ache of desire that he was building.

He had paused again, and you realized that he was looking at you. He locked gazes with you for a long moment, and without breaking the eye contact, leaned in to kiss your stomach again, lightly, so softly that his lips barely ghosted the skin, but you felt the tingles erupt from that spot all the same.

“Y/N,” he murmured, his voice hoarse, and still watching you carefully, he pressed his lips to your bare skin again – this time half an inch lower.

You could feel the rise and fall of your chest speed up even more, how your heart was pounding so hard and so painfully that you were afraid it might burst. You didn’t care. Not really. All you cared about was that he was tracing circles on your stomach with one hand, the other placed firmly on your hip; when he traced the bottom half of the circle, so close to where all of the heat in your body was pooling, it was almost too much to bear. You realized suddenly what he was offering.

He tilted his chin to look up at you.

“If you want me to,” he said, in a low voice, much deeper than usual, “Tell me.” His eyes were dilated so much that at least half of them were black, and his stare was piercing. His chest, too, was heaving as he gazed at you beneath him, hair sprawled wildly out on the bed beneath you. “Give me permission to do this for you,” he continued, softly.

A shiver of pure want ran up your spine at the look he was giving you, at the way he had worded it, and you exhaled a long, shaky breath. “Yes,” you choked out. “ _Please_.”

He shifted so quickly, so suddenly, that you started a little, surprised; his next move, however, was exceedingly gentle. He leaned back toward your face, took it in one hand, and kissed you once more. This time was much slower, more deliberate, than the others, and after just a few seconds you felt his tongue grazing your lips. You let out a little moan of delight, melting easily into him and gripping roughly at his shoulders.

His fingers then moved deftly to your hips again, gripping them for a few moments before hooking his fingers into your underwear and slowly beginning to inch them down over your legs. You froze suddenly, breath hitching. He stopped moving them down, stopped kissing you, in fact, though he didn’t pull away completely. He was still so close that your noses were touching, that you could feel his lips move when he spoke, and he just whispered, seemingly guessing that you were feeling suddenly extremely insecure: “It’s all right. I _want_ to. So badly.”

You were trembling when he kissed you again, very gently. “It’s just me.” Kiss. “If you want me to stop – ” Another kiss. “All you have to do is say so.”

“I-I know,” you finally mumbled against his mouth. “But don’t. Don’t stop.”

You felt his smile against your mouth. “As you command, _birthday_ _girl_.”

Holy _fuck_.

You let out a little whimper again, and his mouth found yours briefly, passionately, before he pulled away to move his hands down again, this time pulling off the garment much more quickly, slipping it easily over the curves of your legs until it was off, and he was throwing it away.

Your eyes were squeezed shut, but you heard his sharp intake of breath; felt both hands run up the sides of your legs and then trace your hip bones with deft fingers. You tensed under his touch, though not in a bad way.

On the contrary. You never wanted his fingers to leave your skin.

“Beautiful,” he mumbled, before he bent down, pressed a kiss on your rib cage, just under the edge of your rolled up shirt, and flicked his tongue ever so slightly across your skin.

You inhaled sharply, clenching your entire body as you felt a sharp burst of desire, almost unbearable, ignite between your legs. “Don’t stop,” you commanded in a low voice, pressing your head back roughly into the pillow.

He wasted no time in obeying, moving systematically down your body with his mouth, alternating between flicks of his tongue and kisses along every bit of skin he could reach. As he got lower and lower, you writhed and squirmed helplessly, gripping the sheets, and he placed his hands firmly on your hips, holding you in place. You were breathing so rapidly that it was almost wheezes. Glancing down, you saw the top of his blonde head glinting in the moonlight, saw him skip past the part of you that you must wanted him to put his mouth on and instead go to your inner thighs.

He was _teasing_ ; you wanted to complain, but found you couldn’t. Your voice didn’t work. All you could do was emit little sighs and gasps every time his lips touched the skin of your legs, so agonizingly _close_ – and you found yourself reaching down to wrap your fingers in his blonde hair, gripping roughly and arching your back. The tension was unbearable.

His eyes flicked up and met with yours once more, a brief flash of gray in the darkness of the room; and finally, _finally_ , still looking up at you, he pressed his lips to your clit.

“ _Oh_ ,” you whimpered, clutching his hair even harder.

You felt his fingers digging roughly into your hips and he groaned against you, sending a deliciously powerful vibration and something very much like an electric shock up your spine. “Perfect,” he whispered, kissing the insides of your legs again once, twice – your legs were shaking now, you could feel it – before his hands nudged your thighs just the slightest bit apart and he began to flick his tongue artfully over the sensitive bud.

“Oh holy – _oh fuck_ – ” you gasped, throwing your head back against the pillow again and closing your eyes. The sensation of his fingers grazing your thighs mixed with the movement of his tongue was too much to bear. You rhythmically thrust your hips out to meet his mouth, eyes rolling back in your head underneath your eyelids from how fucking _good_ it felt.

And then he nearly undid you right then and there – he gently sucked on you, which was followed by swirling his tongue in a delightful little circle. Every time his lips wrapped around the little bundle of nerves and sucked, with just the right pressure, you let out a soft cry of pleasure, thrashing around on the bed. “ _Please_ ,” you moaned brokenly. “ _Please…_ ”

You had no idea what you were begging for. It didn’t matter. He seemed to understand perfectly, know exactly what it was you needed, because he continued sucking and flicking with his tongue, and that coupled with the little moans of appreciation he was making against you, sending continued vibrations up your spine, made the pressure build exponentially fast in your abdomen.

“I’m – going to – _Draco_ – ” you whimpered.

And then you felt the tension snap, felt the waves of ecstasy roll over your body as you came harder than you ever had in your entire life. You arched into him and let out a stuttered cry, trembling violently, until slowly, the tremors began to subside.

You felt him pull away, and you lay still, completely satiated and with every single muscle in your body now feeling completely limp.

The scent of his cologne became suddenly very distinct again; he was at your side, pressing his lips repeatedly into your neck, on your face, on your forehead, and then pulling you to his chest. Letting out a relaxed and completely satisfied sigh, you turned over and buried your face in his neck, pressing your own lips there and waiting for the strength to slowly come back into your body.

After a few moments, your brain, still a little hazy, registered his erection pressing into your thigh, hard through his trousers. You pressed your leg against it, and were rewarded with a low groan of approval. But when you began to move your hand downward, he caught your wrist. “Don’t,” he murmured, and you leaned back to look at him for the first time, hurt in your eyes.

“You don’t want me to…”

His eyes were affectionate, and still very much dilated as he brushed a strand of hair into your face, chuckling. “Obviously I _do_. You can…feel that quite clearly.” He still had some difficulty stuttering the words out due to intoxication, and then he laughed quietly again.

You felt your face grow warm. “So let me…” Suddenly, another entirely unwelcome wave of insecurity washed over you, and you swallowed hard, words stumbling out awkwardly as you gazed fixedly at his neck rather than at his face. “Although I-I’m sure you’re used to…it probably wouldn’t be anything like what you could do for me, since you already have other – um – ”

His hand caught your chin and made you look at him. He looked positively incredulous. “You… _seriously_ believe that?” he whispered, looking rather horrified.

“I – “ you began, entirely flustered now and unsure how to articulate what it was, exactly, that you were feeling. “Well I’m not exactly – I – I mean – well I’m not the sort to have a Kama Sutra book,” you slurred out, a little frantically, eyes whirring around so you wouldn’t have to look into his face, because his hand was still latched firmly on your chin.

You heard him sigh and he pulled you back to his chest, weaving his hands in your hair. “Y/N,” he mumbled, very quietly and very seriously, “I want this time to be for _you_. Just…you. Without giving back. You’re…fucking _exquisite_ ,” he finished, his voice a husky growl.

“Oh,” you said, voice still a little small, though you felt the familiar tingle run down your spine at his words, and especially at the words _this time_. It was quiet for a moment. The world was still swirling from the effects of the alcohol and your post-orgasm high.

“What now?” you whispered finally.

“Sleep,” he suggested softly, tracing a hand lightly on your still exposed stomach.

“I want…pants,” you mumbled, rolling over and standing up, swaying a little, and fished some out of the same drawer he had gotten the shirt from earlier; you caught his eyes roaming rather regretfully over you as you slipped them on. You then turned and stuffed your other discarded clothing unceremoniously into your bag – which Daphne had put in the room earlier, you supposed – before tottering back over to the bed and getting under the blankets, snuggling up to Draco again, who had his arms open and waiting for you to tuck yourself close to him.

Draco’s second gift to you had pulled all of the energy and stress from your body, and so you already felt your eyelids growing heavy. With a content, rather exhausted sigh, you reached out to wrap one hand around the back of his neck and snuggle yourself just that little bit closer to him, felt his lips press to your forehead, before feeling yourself fade into nothing.

* * *

You woke far, far too early the next morning, exhausted and nauseous.

No, nauseous wasn’t the right word.

The right phrase was actually _extremely_ _sick_.

You groaned a little, head throbbing, mouth parched from thirst, and your stomach was rolling uncomfortably. You came to the realization that you were pressed against someone. Peeking up, you saw that it was Draco, and that he was still sleeping soundly, one arm tucked easily around your hip.

You didn’t remember falling sleep here last night, but you supposed you shouldn’t be surprised. You had become accustomed to sleeping in the same bed with him the past few nights. He was shirtless, but you were otherwise both clothed, which made you breathe out a little sigh of relief.

What _did_ you remember?

You strained hard, but there wasn’t much. The entire night was…almost entirely dark in your mind. There were flashes of the first club; Pansy flashing the bouncer, buying some Muggle device, Draco’s altercation with a man on the dance floor. There was something about dancing on a table, but you were quite sure that had been the second one. Had that been you, or Pansy? Or even Daphne? Oh _god_ , that had been so early in the night, too. So much was forgotten.

Your stomach rolled again, and all thoughts of the night before flew from your mind.

Promptly, you extracted yourself from Draco’s arm, vaulted out of bed, and sprinted two doors down the hall to the bathroom, barely making it to the toilet before throwing up violently.

Miserably, you flushed the toilet and settled in to lie on the cold marble floor, instinctively knowing more was soon to come and that leaving the bathroom would not be a wise decision on your part.

A hangover _and_ a blackout.

Perfect. Just fucking perfect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> language! Smut! Cunninlingus ;) We have reached explicit territory!!!


	13. Twelve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after birthday drunkenness.

Draco woke in a cloud of nausea and pain, with a raging headache and far, far too early. His heart was racing with the effort of working off all of the alcohol in his system. Groaning from sleep and discomfort, he blearily opened his eyes to take in his surroundings.

He was in his room, in his bed, and Y/N was conspicuously absent.

Sitting up almost wildly, sheets flailing about, he looked quickly around the room, as if he would find you hiding in a corner. He regretted his quick movement immediately once he felt his stomach twist violently, and he slumped back on the pillows with another little moan of pain at the pulsing in his head.

His brain began flooding with images from the night before when he closed his eyes. It made him simultaneously nervous and aroused, which was very annoying, considering how sick he felt. “Oh, _shit_ ,” he whispered to himself, clutching his head, as the nerves fluttered his stomach.

He hadn’t meant to make a move on you last night. Truly, he hadn’t. He wanted to wait a while longer, give you more time, and definitely not do it drunk, for fuck’s sake. Merlin, he was such a fucking idiot, but he couldn’t muster up _regret_ , exactly. Not when he had the replay in his head. A few things came up more often than others: your back arching toward him; your body twisting, awash in moonlight; or, perhaps best of all, the way you had pleaded, or the way that his name had tumbled over your lips right before the end.

And despite the horrible hangover, he felt heat rush to his groin.

“ _No_ ,” he growled out loud, sitting up. And even though the world spun, he swung his legs determinedly over the bed and stumbled to the door, fully prepared to take a cold shower, drink insane amounts of water, and find a potion that would help make this hangover more fucking bearable.

And where _were_ you, anyway? You had fallen asleep here; nuzzled right into his neck and then conked out almost right away, pressed deliciously against him. Were you regretful that the two of you had crossed a line, a line from which there was no going back? Had you left because of it?

His stomach rolled again, both from the onslaught of more nerves as well as the lingering alcohol effects, but he tried to focus on just putting on foot ahead of the other in the corridor to get to the bloody shower and have a glass of water so that maybe he could start to think straight. But when he finally reached the bathroom down the hall, he already heard the sounds of retching coming from inside, and a low, miserable moan that he recognized immediately. Your pain and sickness made him temporarily forget his hesitation and fear about seeing you after last night, and he pushed open the door, biting his lip upon seeing you curled miserably on the floor next to the toilet, extremely pale and eyes squeezed shut.

“Y/N?” he whispered, and your eyes opened just a fraction to squint at you, wincing.

“Draco,” you mumbled, closing your eyes again. “Go away.”

For a moment he was terrified – he could have sworn his heart stopped in his chest – but then you opened your eyes again and gave him a small, exhausted smile. “Shouldn’t…see me like this.”

He relaxed completely, relieved, and then slowly moved forward into the bathroom, ignoring your comment completely. “Don’t be daft,” he said, rather hoarsely, kneeling down beside you and reaching out to take your hand.

You just groaned, clutching your stomach, before your eyes flew open. They widened a little in horror, and then you promptly leaned forward to the toilet again and threw up. He shifted to sit behind you, rubbing your back, and then passed you a glass of water which you drank with shaking hands before you collapsed, curled up on the floor, head in his lap. Soothingly, he began pushing your tangled hair away from your sweaty forehead, and you closed your eyes again. “Fuck,” you finally whispered miserably. “What in the hell did we _drink_ last night?”

He froze; his hands even stopped petting your hair momentarily.

“You don’t remember?” he asked, trying to keep his voice neutral.

“I remember…getting to a club. Arguing with bouncers. Dancing on a table.” You paused, eyes never opening, and a frown filled your features as you clearly strained to remember. “Maybe.”

“The table dancing was the second one,” he told you.

“Oh _god_ ,” you mumbled, clutching at your stomach again.

“That was…still quite early,” he said tentatively, something unpleasant creeping into his chest. “Is that…is that really all you remember?”

“Yes,” you muttered. “ _Fuck_. I’ve _never_ blacked out quite this badly.” Your opened his eyes, seeing now the way he was looking at you – he quickly tried to bring his face back to a neutral expression, but he knew you had seen that he was looking at you with wide eyes – and curiosity filled your face. “Why? What happened?”

_Oh Merlin, she has no idea._

“Just…just wondering,” he answered, trying to remain normal and calm.

“How do you feel?” you mumbled, probably feeling too shitty to really take too much notice of his strange behavior, for which he was incredibly thankful right now. “Are you feeling as sick as I am?”

He began pushing your hair back again. You closed your eyes, content at his touch. “No,” he answered. “I was going to shower and get a potion. I’ll go get it for us now.” He shifted you carefully away and stood shakily, gritting his teeth and setting his jaw as his head throbbed in protest at the movement, but he still made himself move and get you another glass of water. “Drink it all,” he ordered, sternly.

You accepted it with relief flooding your features. “You’re the best,” you whispered weakly.

He just smiled. “I’ll be right back, okay?” He exited the bathroom to make the long, slow trek down the stairs and to the supply cupboard where the Malfoys kept various brewed potions.

_What the fuck was he going to do now?_

_Tell you? What if it made you angry and ruined the friendship?_

Merlin, this was agony. 

Because as much as he wanted you, the one thing Draco Malfoy could bear even less than seeing you with someone else would be to lose you from his life entirely.

He desperately hoped Daphne would wake up soon.

After both of you took some of the potion, he forced you to drink another glass of water, waited twenty minutes with you until it was quite clear you weren’t going to throw up again, and then picked you up with considerable effort. He was feeling better already – there was still a slight headache and his stomach was uncomfortable, but he knew once he ate and got more water in him that he would feel much better, and the fact that he could carry you at all was a good sign. 

You, on the other hand, did not even seem ready for walking yet and your eyelids were drooping, so he carried you back to his room and placed you in his bed (trying to shake away more mental images from the night before as he did so), pulling the covers up to your chin. Your eyes were already closed when he began to walk the other direction, determined to have that shower and see if Daphne was awake, because if he didn’t confide in _someone_ he felt like he was going to explode. Your voice, however, stopped him in his tracks. “Aren’t you staying?”

It sounded so small and vulnerable that he turned quickly, but he fought the urge to run over and slide into the bed with you and pull you close. Just looking at you lying there and gazing up at him was hard enough.

Merlin, you were pale and sick and shaking and miserable, and still he felt the irritating twinge of desire tugging at his gut.

“I’m going to shower,” he said, gently. “And check on the others. Sleep, okay?”

You just stared at him for a moment before nodding, burying deeper in the blankets and closing your eyes. Draco forced himself to turn and leave the room.

The shower needed to be very, very cold.

* * *

You had been sleeping deeply when he returned to his room after the shower, feeling a million times better. He went to the kitchen, got a piece of plain bread, and went to the living room to nibble on it and wait for someone else to wake up and make their way out of their room.

He waited nearly two hours – passing the time with a book and trying very, _very_ hard not to let his mind continue to wander to inappropriate avenues – before Pansy emerged, looking disheveled.

“Where’s Daphne?” he asked immediately, standing up and closing the unread book with a loud snap.

“Indisposed,” said Pansy, squinting at him a little. Clearly, opening her eyes all the way was painful, even though the light in the room wasn’t that bright yet. “And by that I mean she is currently emptying her stomach repeatedly into one of your toilets. Hangover potion hasn’t quite kicked in for her yet.” She looked at him rather expectantly. “Something wrong, Draco?”

“Er,” was all he said, because his brain was still sluggish.

“Since when do you go to Daphne for all your problems?” she asked, a smug little smile on her face as she gave him a pointed look.

“How did you – ”

“Please,” she said impatiently, holding up a hand to cut him off. “Don’t insult my intelligence. I have eyes.” She tilted her head a little at him, and then she answered her own question when it became clear he wasn’t going to speak. “Okay, sure, maybe Daphne is a little more gentle and less…I don’t know…”

“Severe? Bitchy?” Draco suggested, dryly. Despite the potion, his head was still throbbing.

“I was going to say blunt, but whatever,” Pansy replied, tossing her hair a little and cocking an eyebrow at him. “But I’m perfectly capable of hearing your problem, so spit it out, Draco. You look like you’re going to spontaneously combust.”

“Fine,” he growled, rubbing the bridge of his nose with a sigh. “It’s about Y/N.” Pansy rose her eyebrow even further with a knowing smile. “She’s had a complete blackout about last night. She only remembers bits of that first club, basically.”

She laughed. “ _Really_? Wow, that’s early. Well, not entirely surprising, considering all those drinks she knocked back, and she doesn’t usually drink as much as the rest of us, does she?” Pansy mused, and then giggled again. “She _was_ really shitfaced, wasn’t she? God, some of the videos I have on my phone are _hilarious_. Still, it was bound to happen to her at some point in her life. Not quite sure why you’re so concerned…don’t worry, Draco, get her some extra potion and get some food and water into her, and she’ll survive just fine.”

“Pansy, you don’t understand,” he said, in a low, desperate voice. “There is something _very_ _important_ that happened last night that she doesn’t remember.”

He gave her a very significant look, sincerely hoping that he wouldn’t have to spell it out for her, but it seemed Pansy’s brain was also quite slow that morning, because she just frowned at him. “What happened? I don’t remember anything that – wait,” she said, her voice turning into a hushed sort of shout and her eyes brightening with sudden realization. Draco felt a sudden sense of foreboding. “Are you about to tell me that something _finally_ happened between the two of you?”

“Er – ”

“YES!” she whisper shouted, and he shushed her frantically, glancing nervously at the door. “I fucking _knew_ it! Daphne said the two of you would dawdle about it even longer, but I said no, it’ll happen sooner rather than later. We even made a bet about it – sweet victory!” she exclaimed, pumping her fist in the air with a wide grin and looking positively ecstatic.

“Are you serious? You’re cheering about my personal crisis right now?” Draco hissed. “Can you stop thinking about your weird fucking bet for five seconds, and just – hold on,” he said, frowning down at her. “What exactly was this bet, anyway?”

“Well, I bet that it would take less than a month for you two to bump uglies, and Daphne said more,” she replied smugly, eyes glittering. “So clearly, I won.”

“ _Bump_ _uglies_? Are you listening to yourself? Jesus that’s creepy, Pansy – ”

“Oh, sorry,” she said, patting his shoulder with a little grin and yet not sounding or looking one bit sorry. “ _Make_ _love_ , then, since you two are all mushy about each other, or whatever.”

“We didn’t…” he sputtered, completely overwhelmed, and then he paused, taking a deep breath before continuing in a voice as even as he could make it, despite his ever thinning patience. “Pansy, we didn’t…we didn’t have sex.”

She deflated. “Aw, seriously? What happened, then?”

“It was…um.” He had _so_ not wanted to directly spell it out for her.

“You’re _blushing_ ,” she noted, fascinated.

“Shut _up_ ,” he growled. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Um, I beg to fucking differ,” she replied, looking rather offended. “I want details, Draco, what the fuck.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose again. “And you wonder why I talk to Daphne instead.”

“You’re killing me,” she whined. “Can you please at least tell me if there were orgasms involved? It was her birthday, Draco, so might I remind you that it was your sacred manly duty to – ”

“Fucking – yes, Pansy. Fuck,” he snapped, cutting her off quickly. “She…I mean, she did.”

Pansy smiled wickedly. “Ah, so you went down on her. _Excellent_. Did she like it? And I mean, you also kissed her and everything, right?”

“What are you – of _course_ I fucking kissed her!” he sputtered, incensed. “What does that even matter? I came to you for help about what to do _now_ , not rehash personal and intimate details with you or – or have girl chat, or something, for fuck’s _sake_ – ”

“Sorry, sorry,” she said hastily, patting his arm again with a wide grin. “I’m just happy for my friends when they get some, okay? And now it’s kind of like a two for one. Does that make me so strange?”

“ _Yes_ ,” he answered, vehemently, and felt his head do another painful throb. “So can we just get to the part where you tell me how the hell I should handle this? Because I’m about to go and just interrupt Daphne’s violent vomiting and hope she can get a few words out.”

“This may seem a little out there,” Pansy said, looking suddenly very amused. “But have you considered, you know…just _telling_ her?”

“No,” he said, adamantly. “Not right now, anyway.”

“Of course not,” she sighed. “May I ask why not?”

“Because…look, that doesn’t exactly roll off the tongue, Pansy!”

“How curious, considering all the other things you were clearly willing to do with your tongue,” she said, wiggling her eyebrows at him suggestively.

He threw her a dirty look and decided to blatantly ignore her comment, though he couldn’t quite repress the images of the night before that it conjured in his head. “ _Also_ ,” he said stiffly, still glaring pointedly at her, “She was just in a relationship a few days ago, not to mention drunk, so maybe she was just…I don’t know, confused and…will regret it, or something…” The very thought of that possibility made him feel even more nauseous than his hangover.

“If you honestly believe that, you’re even stupider than I thought,” sighed Pansy, waving her hand impatiently. “Next excuse. Go on.”

“I…” He shuffled his feet, suddenly massively uncomfortable under Pansy’s gaze and moving his eyes to stare down at the floor. “I want her to…to _remember_ something like that, the first time with me, okay? Not hear it secondhand.”

“ _Aww_ ,” she gushed, and when his eyes snapped up to look indignantly at her she was grinning widely, which made Draco growl angrily again, now completely and thoroughly mortified. “You’re _blushing_ again,” she commented gleefully.

“You’re the worst,” he snapped.

“Look,” she said, sighing and rolling her eyes before fixing him with a more serious look. “If that’s really the case and it will make you feel better, then sure, wait a little bit. Warm up the waters and make another move. But then you _have_ to tell her. After all, how would _you_ feel not knowing? Just do it relatively soon, okay?”

He scoffed. “Because of your bet?”

“No,” she insisted, and then paused. “Well, I mean obviously I want to win my bet. But more than that, Draco, it just needs to be done. The tension between you two is making me fucking crazy, and you like, belong together or whatever. Okay?”

“You were already crazy,” he muttered, but his tone was softer. “But thanks, Pansy.”

She grinned. “See? I can be good at this.”

He wrinkled his nose. “I give you a two rating.”

“ _Two_? How positively rude – ”

“Out of one hundred,” he said, grinning.

“ _What_?! The disgrace, Draco Malfoy, the absolute and utter _outrage_ – ”

“Everything all right in here?” You poked your head into the living room, looking thoroughly pale and exhausted but with your hair wet from a recent shower. Draco swallowed hard, feeling is throat grow dry and his vocal chords tighten up. “I heard raised voices,” you continued, looking between them uncertainly.

“Oh, just fine,” said Pansy, brightly. “We were just arguing quite badly is all. It was positively _explosive_.” Draco stiffened, and he saw Pansy shoot him a look, her eyes shining with sudden mischief, and he began to contemplate all of the ways that he could send her to a slow, painful death. But Pansy just turned back to you with a cheery expression and said, “But sometimes it needs to happen, I guess. Release all the tension, if you know what I mean…”

You just stood there looking vaguely confused “Oookay then. Well, good luck with working that out. I need to go and get food. Now.” And then you shot Draco a smile that made his heart skip a beat before disappearing again.

Draco rounded on her furiously. “Pansy, don’t you dare pull this teasing shit on me,” he whisper shouted. “It’s not funny, okay? I will fucking kill you, do you hear me?”

“Doubt it,” she said, shrugging. “We all know you’re not a killer, don’t we? But I’m done now, okay? It was just the one time. Revenge for the bad rating. Promise.”

She sounded sincere enough, so he just grumbled at her and then she smiled, taking his upper arm and leading him out of the room and toward the kitchen. “Let’s get some good food into you too, grumpy. I think you could use some.”

* * *

The mood at the breakfast table was much more subdued than usual, since everyone was still struggling to work off their massive hangovers; but sure enough, as the potions began to kick in and everyone began to get food in their stomach and drink water and coffee and tea, the chatter as you ate breakfast began to pick up. Although, you noted with some concern that Draco was not participating as much as he normally might have. In fact, he was rather quiet, concentrating on his plate and hardly making eye contact with anyone, and sometimes a little frown of concentration would crease his eyebrows together.

At one point, the roar of laughter was so loud from a story that Blaise was telling that none of you heard the roar of the fireplace in the adjacent room, and you only realized that someone had arrived when she walked tentatively into the kitchen.

“Oh, hi,” said Amanda, smiling nervously and looking around at you all.

Your heart sank like a rock and settled somewhere in your stomach, heavy and painful.

_She has access to the Manor through the Floo network._

You had thought that was something reserved for your group of friends alone. As it turned out, you were quite wrong about that. It seemed Draco’s sex partners got to come and go as well; or perhaps just the ones he liked best or saw repeatedly. Suddenly you felt very queasy again, despite having felt so much better only a few moments previously.

“Hi,” everyone echoed, and you exchanged a brief, panicked glance with Daphne. She bit her lip and reached for her juice, taking an awkward sip, and you knew that she had come to the exact same realization that you had. You stared very hard at the bread as if that could somehow make it levitate to you. Or, perhaps, make it disappear, as you now so desperately wanted to do.

“I didn’t know you’d all be here!” she exclaimed, looking a little anxious. “I was coming to see Draco, but of course I can go…”

There was a moment’s pause.

“Nonsense,” said Draco, with a small smile, pulling a seat up to the table beside him. “We were just eating off massive hangovers, if you want to join us.”

She smiled radiantly, beaming at him as she took the seat, and then grinned across the table at you. “How was your birthday, Y/N?” she asked, excitedly.

You could barely speak over the lump in your throat. “Great,” you croaked.

“We went to Paris, actually,” Daphne chimed in quickly, and you wanted to hug her for saving you the effort of speaking further or smiling. “Went to some clubs and came here for the after party.”

“Oh, wow!” she said, mouth agape.

God, you hated how nice she was. You couldn’t even hate her properly. For something to do with your hands, you rather aggressively began buttering another piece of toast, even though there was one on your plate that you had not yet eaten.

“I’ve never been to France! How was it?”

“French girls,” was all Theo said, dreamily, and everyone laughed except for you, as you were still buttering toast and not looking up.

“It was really nice,” said Draco, and you looked up to catch him smiling kindly at her.

“I’d like to go sometime,” she hinted, giving him a dazzling smile back and touching his shoulder, fingers lingering for a moment before she reached for the juice. Draco just gave her a vague smile and turned to his plate; you suddenly felt even sicker, if that were possible.

Launching to your feet so quickly that everyone around the table looked up at you in surprise, you stuttered out, “Um – I need to go, actually – ”

“Go?” Draco’s voice sounded a little concerned. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, yes,” you lied quickly, pushing in your chair without looking at him. “I’m just,” you floundered wildly for something plausible enough, “…meeting Hermione this morning. For coffee.”

“ _Granger_?” Theo asked, incredulous. “What, are you two gal pals now?”

“They _are_ , strangely enough. They meet at least once a week now, apparently,” said Pansy, rolling her eyes. You knew, however, that she was really trying to help smooth over the situation, so you shot her a grateful look before smiling quickly at everyone around the table.

“Sorry everyone, I just remembered – anyway, I’ll see you all later, okay?”

Without waiting for an answer, you spun on your heel and hurried out of the kitchen. You had hoped getting out of the room would make your chest feel less constricted, but it didn’t do much for it, nor did it help the horrible, sinking sensation that you were feeling in your chest.

_He’s still seeing her. She just drops in through his Floo._

_Maybe it wasn’t as casual as he said._

Hating the fact that you felt tears burning in your eyes, you rushed up to Draco’s room to grab your bag, grateful that everything was already inside and all you had to do was grab it and leave.

When you got home, you let out a breath you hadn’t even known you were holding, relaxing a little and leaning against the wall. But really, you shouldn’t have relaxed. You wouldn’t have, if you would have known just how much worse your life was about to get after spotting a blank envelope lying on the floor by the front door, right under the mail slot.

The first letter had arrived.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> language, sexual themes


	14. Thirteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Please be sure to check the warnings in the Chapter Notes this chapter!

You had read the note exactly eleven times.

Part of it was because you were in a state of complete and utter shock, and the words kept blurring together on the page. The other part of you was trying to be logical, already attempting to look for small clues to the writer’s identity.

So far, you had come up with nothing.

—

_Hello, Y/N._

_I’m sure by now you’ve heard the news about the disappearing Purebloods. So tragic that I have to do that, but there is a greater reason, that I can promise you._

_As you may have guessed, you and your little group of friends have to become my targets at some point. It’s nothing personal, you understand. Well, mostly. So I’ve been getting to know you all quite well, you see. I must say, I find you the most interesting. Not like the others, are you? So vulnerable, living all alone. No family nearby to speak of. I know so much about you. I know you had a birthday, and just came back from Paris. I know where you live, where you shop, and where you work. I know that you spend your nights with the Malfoy boy._

_Why am I writing this, you may be wondering? My own entertainment, really. Watching your heightened sense of fear and psychological torture will give me great pleasure. Victims who don’t know they are being hunted are far more boring than the ones who do._

_Don’t even think about telling anyone about this note. I will know, and you will be sorry. On the other hand, if you amuse me enough, I may be kind enough to make your death quick when it comes.  
_

_—  
_

Slowly, your brain began to try and unscramble.

You tried to make sense of what you were reading, through the fog of horror and panic that was clouding your judgment and shortening your breath. You began by mentally running through things you knew to be true:

_Someone was watching you very closely. That someone had been killing the Purebloods. You were all in danger, and you especially. You weren’t allowed to tell anyone about this note. This killer liked to play games, and now he was playing them with you._

_Maybe he was here. Now._

With a sudden start, you fumbled with some difficulty in your pocket until your wand was in your hand, and you rested it on your trembling palm. “ _Homenum_ _Revelio_ ,” you choked out in a whisper.

Nothing happened.

It didn’t make you feel much better.

Trembling from head to foot, you forced yourself to move and search your entire flat. Luckily it wasn’t that large, so it didn’t take long. When you were satisfied that you were alone, you moved to your couch and sat, shaking, for an indeterminable amount of time. The shadows in the living room changed, so it must have been hours. Your brain felt partially paralyzed.

That was why, when a loud rap sounded on your front door, you jumped about a foot into the air and let out a little squeak of fear.

Crumpling the note hastily and stuffing it into your pocket, you checked at the door to see who it was. It was Draco, and in the time it took you to check, he was already knocking again. You took a moment to compose yourself – deep, steady breaths – before opening the front door.

He made to step in, but you put a hand out so that it slammed into his chest and he couldn’t. He opened his mouth to protest, his brow furrowed, but you spoke loudly before he could say anything, asking the first personal question that came to mind. “What embarrassing thing happened to me when I was spending the summer with you? At the Manor. Before third year.”

He stared at you, mouth slightly agape. “What the _fuck_ – ”

“Answer the question,” you snapped, fingers inching toward your wand pocket.

His eyes caught the movement. “You started your period,” he replied immediately, looking at you very intently and still with some confusion. “You came to me crying, asking where my mother was – she was in Greece, though, so you had to ask _me_ for feminine products…I had no fucking _clue_ what to do – ”

“Good,” you breathed, stepping back to let him in and then closing the door quickly behind him as soon as he had strode forward. “Sorry, I was just thinking maybe…with the killings…we should be more careful about Polyjuice Potion.”

“Did Granger say something?” he asked, face twisted in concern now.

Granger? Oh, right. He thought you had gone to meet Hermione earlier.

“She mentioned we should take those precautions,” you lied, turning away so he wouldn’t see your face and slowly heading toward the living room. “What do you want, Draco?” Your voice was irritated.

You couldn’t risk having him here. Not too long.

“I – ” He seemed to hesitate. “I haven’t been seeing Amanda.”

Slowly, you turned around to face him, blinking in surprise.

Merlin, this fucking note had already driven that whole mess from your mind, but now it was back full force, making your stomach ache. “Okay?” you answered uncertainly, not really knowing what to say to that. “Um – ”

“She came over this morning to see where I’ve been,” he explained, quickly. “Because I haven’t been…seeing her the past two weeks.”

“Draco,” you said, harshly. “Right now I really don’t want to hear about the problems you have with juggling your sex partners, all right? I’m in no mood to give council. I’m very tired, I’m still hungover, and I want to go and take a nap.”

The last part was a lie. You just needed him gone.

You didn’t want to risk having him here, if you were being watched. It still felt horrible and wrong, lying to him, and you couldn’t meet his eyes.

“Juggling my sex partners?” he repeated incredulously, and now with a hint of anger and indignation tinting his voice.

“Oh please, don’t act like you don’t do it,” you snapped, suddenly furious and looking up to glare at him. His face was thunderstruck, his mouth slightly agape. “I’m sure you bounce from woman to woman, don’t you? One right after the other. Do they all get Floo access, or is it only your favorites that get the honor of being able to drop in unannounced for a quick fuck?”

He blinked, and his jaw dropped further, perhaps taken aback by your crude language. But then his eyes darkened, and he took a step forward, pressing his lips tightly together. “I _don’t_ bounce from woman to woman. And even if I did, you wouldn’t have room to talk. Fucking… _hypocri_ _te_.” His tone was so vicious that your eyes widened in shock, but he just continued glaring at you.

“What the _fuck_?” you countered, equal parts surprised and furious. “How am I a hypocrite? Is there some random man from my birthday I should know about?”

He opened his mouth furiously. Froze. Closed it again, and then just fixed you with a steely glare, his face contemptuous and his eyes blazing.

Then, finally he said, his voice soft but somehow deadly, warped with a sense of anger that you almost never heard directed at you from Draco, “Are _you_ actually trying to make me feel inferior, Y/N? Because, if I might remind you, your last boyfriend actually _was_ bouncing from woman to woman, and you didn’t even fucking notice. Even a casual relationship is more real than _that –_ at least things are out in the open. Communicated _.”_

You took a step back, feeling as though he had slapped you.

Really, that would have hurt much less.

But here he was, throwing your stupidity with Ethan in your face; and, to add insult to injury, waxing poetic about the merits of his casual relationships right after doing so. You felt a dull ache in your chest, and felt your body stiffen. Something on your face must have alerted him that he had gone too far, because his eyes changed back to the Draco you recognized; you thought you might see the beginning traces of horror and regret in them. He opened his mouth to speak, but you cut him off before he could get any words out, your voice full of venom. “Get out.”

“Y/N,” he began, sounding strained, but you just shook your head and raised your voice to talk over him.

“Get out, Draco! I don’t – I can’t do this right now. Seriously, just…get out.”

His eyes had taken on a pleading quality now. “Y/N –”

“Are you deaf?” you hissed, now shoving rather roughly at his chest. “Get _out_! Or I _will_ alert the Ministry that you are trespassing in my flat, and we both know they’d jump at the chance to arrest you, Draco.”

You saw hurt flash across his face. It was a low blow, and you knew it. You didn’t care at the moment. Your chest was tight and the blood was pounding in your brain, too angry to think straight. And then the cold anger was twisting his features again, and his eyes had gone blank. Shutting you out.

“Fine,” he replied, very curtly. “If that’s what you want.”

He turned on his heel and stormed to the door. You didn’t say anything as you watched him, shoulders stiff, wrench open the front door and walk out, slamming it behind him. And you stood for another minute or two, glued to the spot and feeling the horror and regret coursing through you at what had just transpired, before everything that had happened that day – that _morning_ , in just a span of a few hours, really – made you finally snap.

Not even bothering to go to the couch, you just sat down right there on the floor and began to cry.

* * *

You woke in the middle of a night from a nightmare that involved a letter slipping through your mail slot, stained with blood.

Automatically, you felt the other side of the bed. Of course, it was empty.

You hadn’t eaten dinner. There had been knocking on your front door, sometime that evening, but you didn’t answer it. You didn’t even check to see who it was. Instead, you merely disappeared to the bathroom and got in the shower, so that you wouldn’t have to hear the knocks, and then went straight to bed. Again, so you wouldn’t hear any visitors.

The tears came again, and you tucked your knees to your chest and cried until your eyes were aching and puffy and until you felt numb and exhausted.

You called in sick at work for the next four days, and kept ignoring the knocks on your front door.

Owls arrived – owls from Draco, from Pansy, from Daphne, from everyone, more of them in a day – you couldn’t bring yourself to read them. Nevertheless, when they came, you felt relieved. Their correspondence meant that they were still alive, and you looked for the owls every day now.

Every night, you woke shaking and frightened, and cried yourself back to sleep.

_So vulnerable, living all alone…_

_Watching your heightened sense of fear and psychological torture will give me great pleasure…_

You kept the curtains drawn day and night, but it didn’t make you feel less observed. You didn’t leave the house to grocery shop – you ordered in, knowing that you would regret it when the time came to pay your bills next month, especially after missing the work shifts.

Then again, if you were dead, you wouldn’t have to pay them anyway.

The weekend came, and today you knew you had to go out. You had to work that evening, and so you got up early that morning, trying to give yourself a good start to the day even though you were still exhausted and had bags under your eyes due to lack of sleep from the night before; from the entire week, really. You had eaten breakfast and had a tea, and were feeling marginally better just sitting on your living room couch and staring blankly at the drawn curtains when the slot on the door clicked, and something slid in, landing with a soft thump on your doormat.

_No. No, not again._

But you knew by looking at it that it was, in fact, another one, even from here. And you found yourself running over to read it. What if he had hurt Draco, or Daphne, or Pansy or Theo or Blaise? Oh god, you couldn’t live with yourself if he had hurt Draco and that conversation had been the last…

Tears blurring your vision and fingers trembling, you opened it.

—

_Oh, my dear Y/N._

_I have bad news, sweetheart._

_The bad news is that your attempts at hiding yourself away have irritated me, and there will have to be consequences for that._

_I’ll kill them all. One by one._

_Have a nice first day back at work, sweetheart._

_—  
_

For the strangest reason, you felt a sense of calm wash over you.

You had spent nearly the entire week wallowing. Your brain seemed to have snapped after the first, and you had handled it poorly, but curiously, despite this second one being equally, if not more terrifying, your head felt suddenly clear. You marched upstairs and slipped it into the top drawer of your bedside table with the first one, and after staring at them there for a few seconds, swaying slightly on the spot, you came to a decision.

No longer would you stay inside and be weak and afraid. That had made things worse, anyway, and they wanted to scare you. No – you were now going to go about your business with your head held high, and you weren’t going to let this psychopath ruin the rest of your weekend.

You had to go to work, so that was exactly what you were going to do. Since there was still hardly any food in your house and you were quite sure you were out of money, you would have to put some food on your tab and eat during your shift; but you were opening, so it should be slow enough to have the time. Feeling suddenly invigorated and determined, and much, much braver, you disappeared up to your bathroom to shower and get ready.

After you had determined yourself presentable (despite, of course, the more distinct dark circles under your eyes due to lack of sleep throughout the week, which no amount of makeup was going to get rid of), you went to the front door, slipped on your shoes, tucked your purse over your shoulder, and after taking a deep breath, you opened the front door.

You jolted in surprise at seeing another figure on the other side, but relaxed slightly when you saw it was Draco, with his hand in a fist and raised up, clearly just about to knock.

His eyes looked positively wild, and he just stood there, staring at you almost dazedly for what seemed like forever before he swept forward and pulled you into a bone-crushing hug that lifted you right off your feet. “Draco,” you gasped out, in a bit of a wheeze. “What the –”

“Don’t you _ever_ ,” he growled furiously into your ear, “Do that to me again, Y/N.” He had yet to loosen his grip. “Do you hear me? I don’t care if we fought, you can’t just fucking _disappear_ on me, especially not right now, with everything that’s happening.” He released you then, put his hands rather roughly on your shoulders, and glared down at you. “Where the _fuck_ have you been?”

“I’m sorry,” you said, in a small voice. “I’ve had a – a bit of a bad week – ”

This seemed to be the wrong thing to say, for a vein popped in his neck and his eyes got wilder.

“ _A bad week_?”

He looked positively incredulous at the same time as infuriated, and he gripped at his hair for a moment, frantically. “You really think that’s a sufficient explanation for not answering your door, or any of your owls, and just dropping off the face of the fucking planet?! Do you have any idea how _my_ week has been? Or Daphne, or Pansy, or the rest of us? We’ve been fucking sick with worry, Y/N – do you give a shit about _that_?” He was raving, his voice rising as he talked until he had finished in a shout, and you flinched from the anger. The shame was already hitting you hard at his words, and you felt your bottom lip tremble.

“You didn’t even go to work!” he yelled, pacing now and flailing his hands around. “You _always_ go to fucking work, Y/N, even if you shouldn’t, because you’re so bloody _stubborn_ , so I thought… something _awful_ must have happened, something truly terrible, but you – you wouldn’t – ”

To your horror, his voice was getting a bit choked, and when he stopped to look at you, there were tears in his eyes, even though his face was still angry and his eyes were narrowed at you.

“I’m so sorry,” you whispered, voice pleading. “I swear. I didn’t mean to worry anyone. I –”

“Why do you look so tired? What’s happened to you?” he asked, cutting you off brusquely as he took a few quick steps forward and examined your face carefully. You looked down at the floor, cheeks warming under his scrutiny, as if he could read the secret right in your eyes.

“ _Nothing_ –”

“Why are you lying to me?” he snarled.

“I’m not – Draco, _please_!” you sobbed, stepping back, and you indeed realized that you were crying. His face softened, and then his shoulders slumped. He sighed deeply, massaging his temples with a heavy frown on his face.

And then, after standing there and watching the tears fall down your cheeks for a few moments, he sighed again and walked forward, pulling you into another hug, but more slowly and gently this time, pressing your head firmly against him. “I didn’t come here to shout at you,” he mumbled, sounding regretful. “I’m sorry. And for last time. I’m so sorry.”

“ _I’m_ sorry,” you wailed, feeling the self-hatred wash over you in waves for your selfishness. “I shouldn’t have – you’re right, of course, and I’m so, so sorry…”

He leaned back slightly to look down at you, and there was a very serious expression on his face. “Y/N, I need to talk to you. I need to tell you something important.”

He looked so solemn that your heart dropped into your stomach. “Is it bad?” you whispered, horrified, and searching for the answer in his eyes, which were now very neutral. You recognized them as the eyes he had when he was trying to control himself particularly well.

_Oh no, did something happen?_

“No,” he said, very quickly. “Well, er – I don’t think so, at least.” He shifted uncomfortably and threw you a cautious look.

Now you were intrigued. “What is it?” you asked, softly.

His eyes met yours, and you saw hesitation in them. “Can we sit down? I can get some tea…”

You realized that this was his way of telling you that it was a conversation that would probably take some time, and you bit your lip and gave him a rueful look, now cursing your need to work that day. “Can it wait? I’m sorry, but I was just walking out the door to work…”

He closed his eyes for a second, clearly irked. “You _have_ to go today?” he asked finally, opening them and fixing you with an intent gaze. “You skipped the entire week already, after all.”

“Yes,” you said, quietly, taking his hand in yours and squeezing it apologetically. “ _Because_ I missed all week. I don’t want others to have to cover me again. Besides, I’m opening, so I have to get there soon, and it would be too late to spring this on others.” His eyes were so anguished that you quickly added, “But come with me! Come stay there and after my shift, we can come back here and…and you can tell me whatever it is you want to talk to me about.” You gave him a hopeful smile.

He seemed to relax a little at this, for his shoulders drop somewhat and he just nods, accepting your proposal. And with that, you lead him out of the house by the hand, closing the front door behind you. It takes all of your willpower not to glance around and see if anyone is watching you, but you don’t, because Draco is clearly already suspicious that something is wrong with you.

Still, you feel the hairs on the back of your neck stand up anyway.

You reach the door to the bar soon enough and you let go of Draco’s hand to fumble irritably with your bag, searching for your keys after trying the door and still finding it locked. You supposed that meant Amanda wasn’t here yet, since you knew that she was the one opening with you today. That was odd enough in itself, though. Amanda was always early.

The key clicked in the lock, and you swung the door open to reveal the darkened bar, and the shapes of the chairs stacked on the tables from closing up the night before loomed up rather suddenly and menacingly, illuminated in the light spilling in from the back door.

An overwhelming smell, something almost like tangy iron, hit your nose.

It was so overwhelming that you coughed a little, wondering if someone had left something heated on in the kitchen since the night before. You walked inside with Draco trailing behind you, intending to slip into the back and check and make sure everything was in order, but a curious shape on the other side of the room, still bathed in darkness, caught your eye.

For some reason, you found yourself reaching out to clasp Draco’s arm for support, a sense of horror welling up in your chest and your heart speeding up exponentially. His eyes, too, were now fixed on the shape on the floor, and you saw him glance at you before leaning to his right and flicking the light switch on the wall, bathing the bar in harsh, fluorescent light.

Immediately, it became obvious what the shape was.

It was Amanda.

She was slumped on the floor, curled up in the fetal position with the back of her head facing you. And your eyes flashed over the scene, taking it all in in rapid succession, overwhelmed by the sensory overload, so much so that Draco’s words from your side were only a faint echo, and jumbled, and you couldn’t make sense of what he was saying. But then he was in front of you, turning you around and holding you there firmly with his arms, pressing you against him and blocking the view as best he could with his body. “ _I said d_ _on’t look!”_ he muttered desperately in your ear, sounding choked and panicked.

But it was too late. You had already seen everything, and it was all glued to your mind’s eye and now flickering through your brain, over and over and over.

The back of her head, completely smashed in so that you could see bits of skull.

The blood caked in her hair, and spilled out all over the floor in a gigantic puddle.

And there had been words, a message written in the gleaming red of her blood –

_One by one._

That was when it all clicked – when your brain processing caught up with the images that had been in front of your eyes.

That’s when you started to scream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> angst and arguments, general psychological torture/darkness/horror, (!)graphic depictions of violence, (!)death, language


	15. Fourteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As always, please check the Chapter Notes before reading for any warnings if there is anything you may be sensitive to.

“We came as soon as we could,” said Daphne, breathlessly, rushing into the room at the Ministry hand in hand with Pansy.

You and Draco had been ushered here after the Aurors had come swooping in to the bar. The Auror Department had been unnaturally quiet at this time of morning, but you were both waiting to speak with someone.

You didn’t even glance at them, and Draco didn’t either. He was too busy kneeling in front of you, your face in his hands, trying to get you to look at him.

It was wildly unsuccessful. Your eyes were cloudy and unfocused, and you couldn’t stop rocking back and forth, whispering, “My fault…my fault, this is my fault…”

There was a long moment where Daphne and Pansy took everything in, and then Pansy said to Draco, her voice rather shrill, “Is she all right?”

“Not really,” snapped Draco, still not looking over at her, but his voice softened when he addressed you again, frantically searching your features and trying to look into your eyes, to get some recognition, but they were still very far away. He desperately stroked your cheeks with his thumbs. “Y/N? Come on, say something to me…anything…”

You just shook your head more furiously, looking positively terrified, and more tears streamed over your cheeks before you whispered hoarsely, “My fault…my _fault_ …”

“Why does she keep saying that?” Daphne asked, a tremor in her voice.

“I don’t know,” said Draco shortly. He was finding it very difficult to breathe at the moment.

The door opened again, however, and two Aurors that he didn’t recognize swept into the room.

One of them was very tall and the other very short, and Draco immediately decided that they looked like idiots. Probably the type of Aurors that didn’t get away from the desk very often. Something about them reeked of incompetence, and he felt an even greater sense of foreboding when their eyes ranged over him with a mixture of recognition and dislike, and then frowned at the way you were rocking a little in your chair. They turned to Daphne and Pansy, and one of them, the taller one with dark hair, puffed out his chest a little and said, “You two will have to wait outside.”

“Why?” Pansy asked defiantly. “They’re just giving their statement.”

“No. We have to ask them a few questions as well.”

This was too much for Draco, who stood furiously and faced them, seething. “Why? Are we going to be treated like suspects just for finding her dead?” You let out a wail of despair behind him, and he flinched. He had to actively resist the urge to turn and wrap you up in his arms; instead, he stood his ground and stared at the two men with his jaw clenched tightly.

“She was a Muggleborn,” the shorter, blonde one said slowly. “And considering what just happened last night, and the, er, blood status of the two of you…” And then his eyes locked with Draco’s with a hint of a sneer. “And not to mention that your background is against you.”

“What happened last night?” Daphne’s trembling voice rose to a high octave.

The men turned to look at her in surprise. “That attack on the Muggle village,” the tall one answered finally. “Twelve Muggles dead.”

Draco felt his stomach drop as Daphne and Pansy gasped, and then he heard another wail come from you behind him, and this time he didn’t resist. He turned and stiffly made his way to your side and knelt down again, reaching out to take your hand. Your eyes were squeezed shut and you were still rocking, but you weren’t whispering anything anymore, which he supposed was an improvement, though you still didn’t react at the pressure of his hand.

“It’s still an outrage,” snarled Pansy, finally. “They clearly haven’t done anything wrong – ”

“That will be more clear after we can ask them some questions,” the tall one said importantly. “We promise, it’s only questions. Show yourselves out, ladies, or we’ll have to do so for you.”

They didn’t move; instead they turned and looked rather helplessly at Draco, but he just nodded tersely at them, signifying to them that it was okay to go. “Find Granger,” he said roughly. “If she’s here, maybe she’ll be able to help…or Potter…” They nodded, understanding immediately, and left, but not before throwing one last concerned look over their shoulders at the two of you.

“So,” the shorter one began as they sat on the desk opposite your chairs. You had withdrawn your hand from Draco’s and had buried your face in your hands, and slowly, Draco sank into the chair beside you, heart pounding wildly and glaring at the two authorities across from him. “I’m Rhodes, and this is Carlyle,” he continued, gesturing to the other Auror. He rose an eyebrow and glanced between the two of you. “Here we thought it would be a slow day at the office while all the other Aurors were out at that village, but it looks like things will be more interesting, eh?” He shot Carlyle a look of something like triumph.

“ _Interesting_?” you shrieked, and Draco looked over at you in surprise. Your eyes were red and swollen but they were no longer cloudy or unfocused, and now rather than looking frightened you looked furious, sitting up straighter in your chair. “A woman _died_.”

“Yes well,” said Carlyle hastily, shooting his partner a look, “Let’s just explain how this will work, shall we?” He slipped two vials out of his pocket and put them carefully on the desk. “These doses will last about fifteen minutes. You’re both going to take it, and we’re going to have to ask you some questions under its influence to determine your innocence.”

Draco stared at the vials – clear liquid. Just like water. Veritaserum.

It wasn’t that he had anything to hide. It was that it was insulting that he had to do it anyway. And so he hissed between clenched teeth, “Why _questions_? Why can’t you just ask the one question – did you or didn’t you? – and be done with it?”

“Several reasons,” said Carlyle coldly. “First of all, while obviously powerful, the effects of Veritaserum _can_ be counteracted. Asking questions and digging deep ensures the most accuracy, especially considering _your_ background in Occulumency, Malfoy.” He narrowed his eyes at him and tapped a file in front of him.

“My background…” He stared at them for a moment, dumbfounded. “What, the Ministry has that information on file about me? What the fuck? _How_?” he sputtered angrily.

“The Ministry needs to know about your abilities in case you decide to slip back into Pureblood mania, Malfoy,” said Rhodes smoothly, giving Draco a shit-eating grin that made Draco want to reach across the table and strangle him with his bare hands. “Also,” the Auror continued in a smug sort of voice, “Even assuming you are innocent of the actual crime, you still may know information about who the killer is or be working with them in some way.”

Draco’s fists clenched under the desk, but he knew there wasn’t much of a choice.

Wordlessly, the two men held the vials out to you. Draco took his, but you didn’t move. When he looked over at you again, he saw that you were gazing at it with a look of horror on your face.

“Please don’t make me,” you whispered finally, shaking your head furiously and tears forming in your eyes again. You looked to be on the verge of another breakdown.

The urge to spring to his feet, grab the vial, and smash it to pieces on the floor was so powerful that Draco had to grip his chair again. But he knew it wouldn’t matter if he did. They would just go and get more, and then he’d be in real trouble. Where the _fuck_ were Pansy and Daphne? Then again, if most of the other Aurors were gone, then there wasn’t much they could probably do anyway. And Potter and Granger, as important as they were, were almost certainly at that Muggle village. A sense of desperation rose up in Draco, because he was completely and utterly helpless.

Both Aurors gave you a curious look before Carlyle said, “You don’t want to take the Veritaserum. This is most suspicious, I must say.”

“ _Please_ ,” you gasp out suddenly, and your eyes are full of terror. Draco feels something twist in his chest; something happened to you this week. He’s suddenly more sure of that than anything else. “Please, please, don’t make me…” you continued fearfully.

“Y/N?” Draco prompted, weakly, but you wouldn’t look at him.

Draco saw Carlyle nod to Rhodes, who picked up the vial, and Draco immediately realized what they were planning and vaulted to his feet, causing the two men across the desk to stand and level their wands at him. “Don’t you even think about it,” Draco snarled, clenching his fists at his sides. “You are _not_ going to force that down her throat – ”

“We would, Malfoy, because she’s acting very strangely. So I suggest you sit down, unless you’d like us to send a hex your way,” said Rhodes very dangerously.

“Draco, sit down.” Your voice was quiet, but strong.

He glanced at you uncertainly, but you just gave him a reassuring nod and continued steadily, “It’s all right. I’ll take it.” You held out your hand with a little grimace and Rhodes tucked his wand away and held it out to you. You were sure to give him the dirtiest glare you could muster when you snatched it from his fingers, and then you tilted the vial back and took it all in one go.

Draco sank into his seat and followed suit, also shooting the two men a glare. Their wands were tucked away, and they were watching the two of you carefully.

Immediately after drinking it, he felt how something unraveled in his brain, and how he felt more carefree, almost free of inhibition – but he was well aware that he could also be difficult, and he could answer questions in as roundabout ways as possible just to be irritating, or ask questions in response to push off having to give a direct answer. Anything to make the time drag on longer or make them frustrated would be worth the struggle.

“Now then,” said Rhodes, pressing his fingertips together as Carlyle scribbled something with a quill on a piece of paper. “Let’s get some basic information, and then information about you and the victim. First, let’s have your full names.”

“Draco Lucius Malfoy.” It came tumbling out of his lips almost immediately, and he scowled.

“Y/N Y/M/N Y/L/N,” you answered, quietly. Quickly.

Draco felt his heart clench as he realized that you had no defenses against this. Not like he did.

“Excellent. Now, did you both know the victim before her death?”

“Yes,” you both echoed.

“Malfoy?” Rhodes turned his gaze on him. “Where did you meet the victim?”

“She’s also a bartender,” he replied. “Was a bartender,” he corrected, squeezing his eyes shut and trying to block the horrible image of her bashed head out of his brain, but he didn’t quite manage it, and he shuddered. “At the same bar where Y/N works.”

Rhodes turned to you. “Is that correct? You were coworkers?”

“Yes.” Your voice trembled a little, but you kept your gaze firmly fixed on the men across from you, a hint of defiance blazing in your eyes.

“And did either of you spend personal time with her outside of the bar?”

“No.” Your answer came almost immediately.

Draco’s jaw clenched, and he struggled against the word on his lips. “Yes,” he growled finally.

Rhodes and Carlyle glanced at each other, and Rhodes leaned forward with a little smile. _Probably certain that he’s backed me into some sort of confession, the fucking idiot_ , thought Draco viciously. “How interesting,” the Auror said softly. “What was your relationship to the victim, Malfoy?”

Draco felt a vein pop in his neck, and he struggled to keep his mouth from spilling everything as best he could, to give the vaguest answer possible. “Cordial,” he spat finally.

The men actually laughed and grinned at each other. “You must be quite a good Occulumens,” Carlyle said. “That was a very heavy dose of Veritaserum and yet here you are, still being purposefully evasive.” But then his face darkened a little, and he leaned forward. “But answer the question properly, Malfoy. Be more specific. Were you friends?”

That Draco couldn’t fight, and his mouth opened against his will. “Casual sex partners,” he said, his chest positively boiling with anger and wishing that his glare could melt the two men across from him until they were a puddle on this horribly ugly tile floor of this _stupid_ Ministry.

“Ah,” they said, sharing a look, and Draco wanted to throttle them even more. He chanced a glance at you, but you were just staring down at the desk, twisting your hands nervously in your lap.

“Was this ongoing at the time of her death?”

“No.” He senses you shift in your chair out of the corner of his eye, but he doesn’t look.

“Why not?”

“Why is this line of questioning necessary?” he gritted out, costing him a great effort to do so.

“Determining possible motives, Malfoy,” Rhodes said, very smugly, and Draco, with a jolt of anger to the chest so powerful that it felt like a spike through the heart, suddenly realized that they probably also just liked using their rare power to make him uncomfortable, especially considering those looks they had given him when first walking in. “As we said, the more personal the better when it comes to Veritaserum, especially with someone like you. And most murders occur between people in sexual relationships, did you know that? Often we see fits of rage or jealousy between lovers, and then with the question of her blood status and your background…well, its best if you just let us do our jobs and you answer the questions, or we’ll have to give you another dose.”

Draco closed his eyes for patience and gripped the edge of his chair so tightly it hurt, but he didn’t say anything. He just waited, opening his eyes a little to give them a very murderous look.

“So? Did she break up with you?”

“You can’t break up if it’s not a real relationship,” hissed Draco, wincing at the stabbing in his brain that was warning him that he wasn’t answering the question directly, or at all, really. “I don’t know what you don’t understand about the word _casual_ , but – ”

“Malfoy. Directly. Why did your… _arrangement_ end? No jealousy, no problems? You weren’t seeing anyone else? Perhaps she was seeing someone else?” The man quirked an eyebrow.

“No. No jealousy, no problems. I wasn’t seeing anyone else, and I didn’t care who she saw,” he snapped, bristling at the endless invasion of his private life and hating that he was having to answer these questions with you sitting here beside him.

“Then why end it? Ill feeling, perhaps?” Rhodes smirked suddenly. “Or are you just bad at sex?”

Draco snarled in pure fury, springing to his feet for the second time, but they both took out their wands and pointed them at him again, and it was your little gasp of fear that made him keep his feet planted to the spot rather than charge them anyway. He glared from one to the other, and then slowly sat down again with a contemptuous look on his face. He glanced at you again – you were pale as a sheet beside him, but you still weren’t looking at him. You were glaring at Rhodes.

“Don’t goad him!” you said, shrilly. “That’s not relevant, and you know it!”

“True,” Rhodes said, grinning a little devilishly. “I just _really_ don’t like him or his family.”

“You _fucking_ –” You began furiously, face screwed up angrily, but Draco spoke over you quickly.

“On the contrary,” he drawled casually, despite the blood pounding in his brain due to his anger. “I’m _very_ good at sex, which I’m sure is more than _you_ can say.”

Rhodes narrowed his eyes at him. “Then what was the _reason_ , Malfoy? Answer the question.”

“I didn’t want to see her anymore.”

“Why? Was she annoying you? Irritating you?”

“No.”

“Then _why_?” The man was exasperated, Draco could tell.

Good.

He pursed his lips so tightly it was painful, trying to resist, but the words came slipping out anyway, tumbling desperately over each other in their haste to escape due to Veritaserum influence. “I thought I might have a real chance with the woman I love.”

They had clearly not been expecting that answer, if their looks of surprise were anything to go by. Draco relished for a moment in their shock, but they recovered quickly and this time it was Carlyle who spoke, and he turned to address you as he passed the parchment to Rhodes to take notes.

“And you, Miss Y/L/N? What was the nature of your relationship to your coworker?”

“Friendly. I liked her.” A tear rolled down your cheek.

“There were no problems? No irritations, no thoughts of violence toward her?”

There was a beat of silence. “I sometimes wanted to slap her,” you muttered, clearly mortified. “Or…shake her until her teeth rattled.”

The Aurors glanced at each other. “Why?” Carlyle asked.

You rose her head to glare at him, cheeks hot. You spoke quickly, in a low mumble. “Because she was sleeping with him.” You gestured toward Draco with your hand, but you were still looking down at the desk and very much looking like you wanted to faint.

Draco felt his heart twist in his chest at the same time that it got very light, and all he could do was stare, fascinated and pleased and at the same time hating this situation with every part of his being.

“Ahhh,” Rhodes said, his eyes lighting up and the smug smile returning as he glanced between the two of you. “I _see_. This is really getting interesting, isn’t it?” He smirked.

“Again, someone died,” Draco said harshly. “How are you two even Aurors?”

“Quiet, Malfoy,” replied Carlyle roughly, his eyes darting between the two of you before leaning forward rather eagerly. “Now hold on. Was this a Bonnie and Clyde sort of thing?”

“A what?” Draco snapped.

Rhodes gestured between the two of you. “He meant if you did this together, or something. Are the two of you romantically involved? Or were you?”

“No,” you answered softly, immediately.

Again, there was a long pause where Draco struggled not to speak. He stared down at the desk in concentration and gasped out, “That’s personal. And irrelevant.”

He could feel everyone’s eyes on him, but he didn’t look up, though he felt his cheeks beginning to get pink. “Well it’s not irrelevant anymore,” said Carlyle, frowning, and Draco could hear suspicion in his voice. “If your answers differ, then we may actually have another crime on our hands…”

At that, Draco’s eyes snapped up, blazing furiously at the two Aurors. “What the _fuck_ are you suggesting?”

“Yes or no, Malfoy. Directly,” Rhodes said, very nastily.

Draco pressed his lips together tightly, gripped his chair harder, but it didn’t help. He couldn’t fight it. “Yes,” he gasped out finally, his voice strangled.

“ _What_?”

Your voice was an incredulous squeak beside him, and he brought his eyes up to look at you. You were staring at him, eyes wide and looking thunderstruck. Worst of all was the slight confusion and betrayal he saw painted on your shocked features.

“Well well,” said Rhodes smugly. “It seems we may be sending you to Azkaban after all, Malfoy.”

At that you stiffened and turned to face him, glaring. “Shut up,” you hissed. “You aren’t sending him anywhere, because I would have to accuse him. There was no crime. He would never.”

“Your birthday,” Draco told you hoarsely, looking at you pleadingly, and your eyes slid back to him and flooded with comprehension. “Y/N, I’m so sorry. I was going to tell you, but then you had to work and - and…” He swallowed hard at the dazed and almost fearful look on your face, and the words came spilling out as an attempt to reassure. “We didn’t – we didn’t sleep together, if that makes you feel better…”

“Not really at the moment, no!” you cried out, shooting a mortified glance at the two Aurors, who seemed to be both awestruck and vigorously entertained.

Draco mentally kicked himself for saying the last bit, knowing it had embarrassed you even further even though he had been trying to do the exact opposite. His head whipped over to look at the men sitting across the desk. “This is something I really would have preferred to tell her _privately_ ,” he snapped at the Aurors, “So would you hurry the fuck up and finish your freak show questioning?”

“As you wish,” said Rhodes, smirking a little.

“Fuck you,” spat Draco, glaring.

“When was the last time you saw the victim before today?” Rhodes asked.

“This Sunday,” you both answered in sync, glancing at each other. Your cheeks warmed immediately and you hastily looked away from Draco’s gaze, and he felt his heart clench again.

“What happened on that day?”

“It was the day after my birthday,” you answered, rather tonelessly. “She came to breakfast to surprise him.” She gestured at Draco. “She joined us and our other friends.”

Carlyle rose an eyebrow. “Did she spend time with either of you alone that day?”

“No,” you said, with a little sigh.

“Yes,” answered Draco furiously, and very reluctantly.

“And?”

“And _nothing_ ,” Draco hissed. “I verbally ended the arrangement, which had been over some time before that anyway. And then she left, and the next time I saw her she was very much dead.”

You buried your face in your hands and let out a choked little sob.

Draco’s head whirled over. “Y/N…” he began gently, but Rhodes’ voice cut him off.

“Did you kill her, Malfoy?”

“ _No_ ,” said Draco angrily, turning back to fix him with his best scowl. “I didn’t kill her, and I haven’t killed _anyone_. Fucking happy?”

“Do you know who killed her?”

“No.”

“Did the message written in her blood mean anything to you?”

“ _No_.”

The two men observed him carefully for a long time. However, they seemed to deem his answers satisfactory, for they turned back to you. “Miss Y/L/N?” Carlyle questioned.

You squirmed in your chair, looking suddenly very uncomfortable and horrified.

“Yes?” you said back, still slightly defiant and with narrowed eyes, despite your obvious fear.

“Did you kill her?”

“ _No_.” Your voice trembled.

“Do you know who killed her?” Carlyle pressed.

“Yes,” you whispered, more tears squeezing out of your eyes and choking a little.

Draco’s stomach rolled. _What happened to you? Y/N, what happened…_

The two Aurors looked at each other excitedly, and then leaned forward. You began to tremble and the tears came harder and faster. “How?” Rhodes asked. “Are you working with him somehow?”

“ _No_ ,” you said adamantly, furiously. “Of course not. He…sent me notes.”

“ _What_?” It was Draco’s turn to be shocked, and he had the curious sensation that he had just been pushed off of a cliff.

There was a buzzing in his brain, and he couldn’t breathe. He hadn’t even realized that he had gotten to his feet until he realized that everyone was looking at him, and Rhodes said harshly, “Sit down, Malfoy. How many times do we have to say it?” He obeyed, shaking, feeling like he was in a trance, his eyes never leaving you. This couldn’t be real. It had to be a nightmare, it _had_ to be.

You had turned again to look at the other men, and you looked positively miserable.

“Lot of secrets here, I see,” commented Rhodes snidely.

“Again,” spat Draco very loudly, “Fuck you.”

“What kind of notes?” asked Carlyle quickly, giving both his partner and Draco warning glances, since the two men were glaring daggers at each other. “Do you have them with you?”

“I don’t have them with me,” you mumbled, burying your face in your hands, which were trembling violently. “Just handwritten notes. Delivered through my door, in an envelope. No name.”

“Stop,” Draco pleaded desperately. “It’s clear now she didn’t do it, stop questioning her, please…”

“Be _quiet_ , Malfoy, I don’t want to ask you again,” Carlyle snapped, and then he turned back to you. “What did they say, exactly? These notes?”

You let out a wail of despair, shaking your head desperately, gripping the edge of the desk and pressing your lips together in a clear attempt to keep the answer forever trapped behind your lips.

“STOP!” roared Draco, standing quickly again, this time knocking his chair backward and sending it flying, but Rhodes trained his wand menacingly on him and he couldn’t move. He was only helpless to watch it continue.

“Come on,” urged Carlyle, though his voice was somewhat gentler now. “It helps the case. I’m sorry, Y/N, but you have to tell us. Slow and easy, now. Anything you remember.”

“They…they said…” You were trembling so violently that the chair was moving, and you were having difficulty getting the words out. “He was…killing the Purebloods. And my friends…and me…were next…said I was interesting…lived alone, and vulnerable…knew things about me, my movements…said he had been watching, and it would be fun to watch me be afraid…”

“Y/N,” Draco whispered hoarsely, feeling sick. But he still couldn’t move. Even if he tried, he was uncertain he’d be able to move. He felt paralyzed.

“Said if I told anyone…he’d kill them faster,” you gasped, and then you began to cry, and for a long time you couldn’t say anything. You only rocked back and forth on the chair again and Draco understood, suddenly, why you had stayed home and avoided everyone, and why you had been so reluctant to take the Veritaserum. “Then I stayed home for a week…I was afraid,” you whispered hoarsely, when you had gotten your breath back. “And the second note came today…this morning. Staying home made him angry. Said there would be…consequences. And he’d kill…one by one…” You gasped suddenly, and Draco reached out a hand, despite being so far away that it would never reach. “He told me to have a good day back at work…and _then_ …”

All the men in the room could finish it; there was no need for you to say the rest, for you had collapsed forward onto the desk with a whimper, body convulsing with sobs again. “My fault,” you moaned, full of despair. “My _fault_ , did it so that I would find it…and now…now I’ve _told_ …”

Draco threw caution to the winds with getting hexed and rushed forward to you anyway. No spell came his way, likely because the Aurors had gotten the answers they needed. And indeed, they were already murmuring about the information to each other: _if it was this person, the same person going for the Purebloods that also killed a Muggleborn,_ _could it be related to the attacks today…?_

Draco didn’t care one bit at the moment. He only stood beside you and gripped your shoulders tightly, glaring at the Aurors. “Is this over? Can we leave? Have you done your fucking damage?”

“Go somewhere safe,” Carlyle suggested, looking rather disturbed now.

“Obviously,” hissed Draco, and then pulled you carefully to your feet – he could feel the way that you were shaking, but you were steady enough when you stood – and leading you by the hand, he stomped out of the little room and into the hallway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Draco’s Sass™, sexual themes, mentions of violence/gore/death, allusions to noncon (it sounds worse than it is I think, but just in case someone is really sensitive to this), and lots of language.


	16. Fifteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Please check the chapter warnings in the Chapter notes ;)

When you and Draco burst out of the little Ministry room, Daphne and Pansy, who had been sitting outside on chairs, sprang to their feet. For a long moment, they only took in the sight of the pair of you, standing hand in hand just outside the doorway. Draco’s eyes had a wild glint in them and you were staring at the ground, with colored cheeks and looking anguished, and they seemed to assume from seeing this – rather correctly – that the questioning had not gone well.

“Granger and Potter were both gone,” began Daphne breathlessly. “ They’re at the site of that Muggle village…it was apparently razed to the ground…I left a note with their secretaries, but…”

“Motherfucker,” Draco muttered hoarsely.

“What happened?” Pansy pressed anxiously, as she and Daphne swept forward. Pansy gripped Draco’s shoulder and Daphne took your other hand, their eyes flying between the two of you.

“I’ll explain after we get Y/N situated.” Draco’s voice was quite calm, but there was a hard edge underneath that made Daphne and Pansy glance at each other. But before they could say anything or ask him why, you had spoken up.

“What do you mean?” you demanded indignantly, looking up at him.

“I am going to your flat to get anything you might need, because you’re coming to live at the Manor for a while. Pansy and Daphne, if you could please take her to the Manor, and then once you’re there Floo Blaise and Theo. Emergency meeting.” His voice was still strangely relaxed and yet also somehow completely unhinged. And then his eyes darkened and his face became positively dangerous, and he didn’t seem to be addressing any one of the three of you directly. “Also, I’m reading those bloody notes.”

“Notes?” chorused Daphne and Pansy, looking at each other uneasily.

“Later,” said Draco very stiffly, and he made to walk off, but you yanked hard on his hand, stopping him in his tracks. Slowly he turned to face you with a defiant look on his face, already knowing, probably, what was coming.

“I don’t remember saying I would come live with you, Draco,” you said irritably.

“You didn’t,” he said tersely. “But you are.”

“Why do you think you can just – ”

He drew himself up to his full height, eyes blazing. “Either you are coming to live with me or I am going to live with you, Y/N. It is one of those two options.” You opened your mouth furiously to argue, but he spoke before you could say anything. “This is not negotiable,” he growled. “And the second option is both not as secure _and_ requires me to leave my mother alone, so I think we both know that you are going to choose the first one.”

You just glared for a moment, hating that he was right, but also not wanting to back down. “You are _not_ going there,” you snapped. “It isn’t safe.”

“Neither are you,” he retorted. “So Daphne, Pansy, would you please – ”

“We’ll _all_ go,” said Pansy, stepping forward and throwing you both a look that told you there would be no arguing with her. “And then we’ll go to the Manor together after, and you’d better explain to us what the hell is happening.”

Draco looked like he had eaten something sour, but he didn’t argue, perhaps knowing this option was the only one that everyone would accept. You didn’t like it much either, but Draco was being so adamant that you knew that there was no choice but to go to your flat with your friends.

“Fine,” you hissed, narrowing your eyes at him. “But let’s make this quick.”

And so the four of you went as quickly as possible to a point where you could Apparate, landing right on your doorstep when you did so. You already had your keys in your hand and hurriedly fumbled with them in the lock, feeling incredibly exposed here and half expecting a curse or hex to come for the group of you, huddled there on the doorstep. But nothing happened, and you were able to smoothly get the front door open and all of you could troop inside, shutting the door behind you. Still, you weren’t entirely relaxed, so you pulled out your wand and whispered, “ _Homenum_ _Revelio_.”

When nothing happened, that was when you all finally let out long exhales.

“Is it that unsafe here now?” Pansy questioned, as you all made your way down the hall. “Did something happen?”

“Y/N revealed during the interrogation questioning that the madman that has been killing people has been slipping letters through her door,” Draco said, before you could say anything. His voice was both strangled and angry as he led the way with a determined pace to your bedroom. “This place is watched, and she is in direct danger…”

“ _Everyone_ is in direct danger,” you insisted, frowning. “And all of you are in much _more_ danger, because he’s saving me for last, and now that I’ve told…” Your hands began to shake, and your voice trembled as it died in your throat. Draco shot you a glance and you saw the features on his face suddenly soften. 

But you couldn’t meet his eyes for too long without wondering what, exactly, had transpired on your birthday and feeling awkward about it all over again, so you hastily looked away, feeling your cheeks get warm.

“Fuck,” said Pansy hoarsely.

“Fuck is correct,” said Draco grimly.

In your room, you all systematically began opening drawers and pulling out clothes, stuffing them in a suitcase that you dragged over from the little closet across the hall. Draco hovered in the doorway even for the brief second that you stepped out of the room, and you felt his eyes on you so often while you were all packing that it made you jittery. When it was done and you had stuffed as much as you could into the suitcase you owned, Draco turned to you with pursed lips.

“Where are they?”

Of course he wouldn’t have forgotten. You sighed and pointed at your bedside table. “Top drawer.”

He immediately strode over and opened it, and you saw his entire body tense at the sight of the two blank envelopes in the drawer, as if the sight of them had given him a physical reaction all over again. But he didn’t say anything as he took them out and tucked them into his jacket pocket, and when he turned to face the three of you again his face was carefully composed. “Ready?”

The stress of being outside again was terrible, but it was over quickly, and then you had all Apparated outside the gates of Malfoy Manor. You stumbled a little upon landing, having done Side-Along Apparation with Draco so that you could hold the suitcase. His hand reached out automatically, almost absentmindedly, to steady you, and then he rushed forward to the gate, pulled his wand out, and murmured something over his forearm.

To your horror, you saw some blood splash out of his arm. You let go of the suitcase and stepped forward with a little cry of concern, but the blood was already hitting the iron on the bars of the gate and he was shaking back his sleeve nonchalantly by the time you had taken just a few paces. He turned to look at you and said gently, “Relax. I’m just getting us inside.”

His eyes were doing that _thing_ at you, melting and swirling and making your legs feel rather weak, but instead of holding his gaze for too long you found it was much easier to just slide your eyes down to the ground, nod, and slip quickly back over to your suitcase and clutch at it tightly. You could feel his eyes following you and you hated that you were probably blushing _again_ , but then the gate was opening with loud creaking sounds and you all were hurrying into the grounds.

To your dismay, Draco waited until you had reached him and then swiped the suitcase easily from your hands and carried it in his left one.

“I can carry that,” you insisted.

He glanced down at you, looking very amused and, you were flustered to see, with that same intensity in his eyes. “I’m well aware you’re capable, Y/N,” he said softly. “Must you be so stubborn that I’m taking care of you a little?”

“But my flat – ” You began.

“ – will be waiting for you when this is all over,” he finished. “I’ll take care of it.”

“But – ”

“You can’t work, remember? They said the bar will be closed for a while.”

“I know, but – ”

“ _Stop_ ,” he said, sounding rather exasperated now. “Stop worrying and just _relax_ here for a while, okay? And…” You jolted a little when he put his right hand on your lower back as you walked along behind Daphne and Pansy, and leaned down a bit to murmur, “And why won’t you look at me, Y/N?” He sounded so dejected that you looked up in surprise, heart pounding.

“I am,” you insisted nervously.

He sighed a little, and opened his mouth to say something, but then Pansy was calling his name. “Draco!” She jerked her head to indicate that she wanted him to come up and join her, and he just gave you one last glance before quickening his pace to walk up by Pansy. Daphne immediately slowed down to a sidling pace to fall into step beside you. The Manor was looming up closer now; you had walked about half of the long trek on the grounds by now, and though you knew that you were safe here – safer, perhaps, than anywhere else – you still didn’t like being out in the open like this, and you would be very glad once you were finally inside.

Daphne took your arm and slowed you down even more, letting Draco and Pansy get some way ahead before finally speaking. “Oh Y/N,” she whispered, squeezing your arm affectionately. “I’m so sorry that it’s been so stressful for you. We were so worried this last week, and you must have been so scared and alone. Are you feeling all right?”

“I’m okay,” you said, though really you weren’t exactly sure what you were. You found that your eyes were still trained on Draco’s tall figure walking ahead, his lips moving as he murmured something to Pansy, and Daphne seemed to catch where your gaze was at.

“Do you mind me asking what’s going on with you two?” she asked, very tentatively and very quietly. “I’m getting some interesting vibes.”

“What do you know about my birthday, Daphne?” you asked suddenly, though still sure to keep your voice low so that it wouldn’t travel up to the others.

She blinked, and looked suddenly a mixture of both very guilty and mischievous. “Well…” she began uncertainly, biting her lip as she looked at you, and you groaned a little.

“Did everyone know something happened except for me?”

“No!” she said quickly, squeezing your arm again reassuringly. “No, not at all. I only know because Draco told Pansy that morning, and _she_ only knew because she wheedled it out of him – you know how aggressive she can be – ”

You groaned again, feeling a sudden clenching in your stomach, because that did not make you feel any better about the situation. “Well, I was only told because he was under influence of Veritaserum,” you told her, cheeks burning all over again at the memory of it. “And in front of two asshole Aurors.”

“Oh my _god_ ,” Daphne replied, looking rather appalled. “Wait, they didn’t…they didn’t actually make him reveal _details_ or anything, did they?”

“No,” you said miserably. “I only know we didn’t sleep together and we were ‘romantically involved.’ That could mean anything! I mean…” And then you stopped suddenly, glancing at Daphne, who hastily looked away, again looking rather guilty, and you already knew the answer, somehow, to the question you were about to ask. “Do _you_ know details?” you asked suspiciously.

“Yes,” Daphne admitted.

“Did we just kiss? Is that it?” you pressed.

She hesitated. “Look, I’m not even technically supposed to know, it’s just by extension through Pansy – ”

“Sounds like a no,” you mumbled, flushing.

“Er,” said Daphne, but she didn’t say anything else.

“Fine,” you grumbled. “I’ll have plenty of time to talk to him about it now anyway, won’t I? Seeing as I’m living here and all.”

“Plenty of time for talking and…other things,” said Daphne, mouth twitching.

“Daphne!” you cried out, smacking her, and at this and her loud peals of laughter, Draco and Pansy stopped and turned around, watching the two of you with a mixture of suspicion and amusement.

“What are you two planning?” Pansy asked promptly.

“Nothing,” said Daphne innocently.

By this point you had reached the front door, and when you stepped inside the gigantic entryway and entered the living room, Narcissa Malfoy was sitting on the couch and drinking tea, her eyes distinctly hazy.

“Mother,” said Draco immediately, and rather sharply. “It seems a bit early to have rum in your tea, don’t you think?” He stalked over to the couch and placed your suitcase down, his eyes narrowed at her and the cup in her hand, and you, Daphne, and Pansy exchanged looks.

“Now Draco,” said Narcissa woefully, “There’s no need to be like that.”

“There’s plenty of need, Mother, because I need you to have your wits about you right now,” he replied very stiffly.

Narcissa let her gaze trail over all of you anxiously, taking in the looks on your faces and lingering for a long time on her son. “What’s happened?”

“I’ll explain in a moment,” said Draco, stepping immediately toward the fireplace and ducking his head in, presumably to call Blaise and Theo over.

Narcissa immediately stood and swept from the room, murmuring something about more tea, and there was nothing to do but wait until Draco had called Blaise and Theo. Your other two friends came immediately, stepping through the fireplace and brushing themselves off. Finally, you were all standing in the living room, looking expectantly at Draco as Narcissa returned with a tray of tea and began passing a cup around to each of you.

Draco just began to pace the room with a manic sort of energy.

“What’s happening, Draco?” Narcissa asked in a tremulous voice.

Draco’s eyes swept the people gathered in the room. 

Every single person he cared about deeply – besides his father – was in this room, and for a horrible moment, the fact that every single one of them was in terrible danger washed over him and choked him. He struggled for a few moments to think of the right words to explain.

“It’s something very serious, obviously,” said Theo, watching him closely.

“Yes,” said Draco. “I – ”

But he was interrupted by the sudden rush of flames bursting to life in the fireplace, and the head of none other than Harry Potter appeared. His eyes looked tired and rather frantic. “Malfoy?” he called, and Draco stepped into view of the fireplace, looking at his ex-nemesis disdainfully. “There you are,” said Potter. “The Ministry wanted to send others over – they need to talk more to you two, apparently – but Hermione and I said we would come instead, if that’s – ”

“Good,” said Draco curtly, thinking of how strange it was that he would rather Harry Potter and Hermione Granger come than any other person at that entire Ministry. “Yes, come on, then.”

“We’ll be at your gates soon,” was all Potter said, and then his head disappeared.

Narcissa snapped her fingers, and the Malfoy’s house elf appeared. “Would you mind meeting Mr. Potter and Miss Granger at the gates?” she asked kindly. “And please escort them here?”

The house elf bowed low and disappeared with a crack.

“Explain,” said Blaise, frowning. “Now, Draco.”

Glancing around at them all, Draco took a deep breath and began to explain from the beginning, in a dull, detached voice, what had transpired at the Ministry and what he had learned. He left out quite a bit of parts, though his eyes flicked to you whenever he danced over something.

When he came to the point, however, where he suggested that everyone should stay at Malfoy Manor for a while, there was immediate dissent.

“Daphne and I have our flat very well protected,” said Pansy, shaking her head. “We’ll be okay.”

“But – ” Draco began desperately, only for Blaise to speak up.

“I’m not leaving my mother alone,” he said. “Would you, Draco?”

“No, but there’s plenty of room for your mother here too,” he growled, irritated.

“Our mansions are just as well protected as yours,” said Theo. “This isn’t necessary, mate.”

Draco opened his mouth to argue, even if he knew it was pointless. He wished he could force his friends to stay with him, but he couldn’t, and that was that. All he could do was hope that they would be as careful as possible. And besides, precisely at that moment, Potter and Granger walked into the room, both of them looking exhausted and pale but their faces set.

Draco noted Granger’s face flicker, and he realized that she had been tortured in this very room, so he said, very awkwardly, “Er – we could go into the parlor…”

She seemed to realize why he had said it, for he saw gratefulness in her eyes, but she shook her head resolutely. “No. Let’s just make this quick, shall we? Harry and I need to get back to the Ministry.” Her eyes ranged over you and gave you a small, tired smile, which you returned.

“What do you two need?” asked Draco, his voice strained.

“We need those letters,” said Potter heavily. “For evidence. We heard about the interrogation. Sorry about that, by the way. That was quite unprofessional – ”

“ _Quite_ unprofessional?” you butted in skeptically.

“Okay, _very_ unprofessional,” Potter relented. “They are being reprimanded, believe me.”

“I have them,” said Draco. “But I want to read them first.”

“Then you’ll have to do it now, Malfoy, because we want to take them, and quite frankly we don’t have time to wait around,” snapped Potter. His eyes looked bloodshot and exhausted, and you wondered how long it had been since he and Hermione had slept.

“Let’s go to the parlor, I’ll read them, and then you two can be on your way,” Draco suggested to them both, sending you a glance before sweeping out of the room with them. Harry Potter gave you all nods before following him away, and Hermione waved, and then you were all alone again. You sat down on the couch with a loud sigh, burying your face in your hands and wondering why Draco had to insist on reading those horrible things when you’d already said what was in them.

You felt a hand on your shoulder and looked up to see Pansy gripping it and giving you one of her rare, soft smiles. “It’ll all be fine,” she said. “You’ll see, Y/N.”

“Right,” you muttered, suddenly wanting to cry all over again.

You were _so_ tired. So much had happened. 

And the horrible images from that morning – Merlin, had it really only been just a few hours ago? – were still flickering through your mind. It was hard not to feel like Amanda’s death was your fault, and it was also hard not to imagine her final moments. She must have been so alone, so afraid…

If you hadn’t stayed home like that…if you had been stronger, and just gone out…perhaps Amanda would still be alive. Perhaps the bar wouldn’t have to close. Perhaps you wouldn’t have had to tell about the notes and put everyone you loved in danger.

You were sobbing uncontrollably onto Blaise’s shoulder when Draco returned, hating that you felt so weak but unable to stop the sudden wave of emotion that had washed over you. Theo had come to hold your hands, and Pansy and Daphne each had an arm around your shoulders. Theo stepped back to allow Draco to kneel in front of you and take your hands instead, and the four of them all exchanged mutual looks of agreement over your and Draco’s heads.

“Pansy and I are going to head out, then,” said Daphne gently. “Unless you need us here…”

You just shook your head, raising your head with tear-stained, swollen cheeks to give her a watery smile. “Be careful,” you whispered, and she nodded.

“We’ll check in very soon,” she promised.

“I need to go tell my mother everything and check on her, too,” said Blaise, also standing up.

“I’ll come with you,” Theo told him, which made you feel marginally better, knowing that they would all be together in pairs and not entirely alone. After exchanging hugs all around, your four friends had all stepped into the Floo one by one and disappeared.

For a long moment afterward it was quiet except for your little sobs.

“Well,” said Narcissa finally. “I think it would be nice for you two to just try and get some rest after all the trauma. If you need anything, I’ll be here.”

Draco just nodded, and you gave her a small smile before she swept out of the room, leaving you and Draco alone. You found that you had no idea what to say to him, not that you were very capable of speaking now anyway. But he came and sat on the couch beside you, wrapped his arms around you, and pulled you to his chest. For some reason, this made you cry harder.

“S-She didn’t d-do anything,” you choked out finally, picturing Amanda on that floor all over again. “J-just in the wrong place, with the w-wrong coworker…”

“I know,” he murmured, sighing heavily. “But you didn’t do anything either, Y/N.”

“I stayed at home – ”

“Yes,” he said, rather fiercely. “You were afraid, and it was natural. I shouldn’t have been so cross with you about that. I’m so sorry.” His voice was full of regret.

“But I shouldn’t have ignored everyone,” you mumbled. “I just figured you would have known something was wrong, and if I told…I didn’t want to risk…”

“I know,” he said, tightening his arms around you. “But I still wish you would have told me. I could have helped you. You could have come here. We’re all targets no matter what, Y/N. You telling wouldn’t have changed much, I think, and it still won’t. He’ll find an excuse to do things regardless of what you do. Making you believe anything else is just part of the mind games.”

“I’m still sorry,” you whispered.

“Don’t be. Now you’re here.” His fingers began to move through your hair, and you closed your eyes for a while, just letting the movements soothe you.

It was quiet for a long time.

“Did you read the letters?” you asked finally, very hesitantly.

“Yes.” His voice had suddenly gotten so dark that you shuddered a little.

“How do you think he knows everything he knew?” you mumbled.

“I don’t know,” he replied, sounding positively furious, and again his arms tightened. But he softened his voice quickly again. “But it’s safe here, Y/N. No one is watching us. You can relax. And you should sleep, you know. You haven’t gotten enough this week, I think, and I won’t go anywhere. I promise.”

You nodded against him. “A nap does sound nice.”

“Do you want your own room?” he asked, pulling back now and taking your shoulders. You peeked up at him to see that his eyes were tentative. You slowly shook your head, and he gave you a small smile that seemed to hold relief. “Come on, then.” He helped you to your feet, took the suitcase beside the sofa in one hand, and then led you down the hallway to his room.

He set the suitcase down beside his own dresser and then turned to face you standing by his bed. You were twisting your hands and staring down at the ground, hating the elephant in the room. You saw Draco’s shoes moving toward you and your heart shot into your throat. They stopped in front of you and then you felt hands on your chin, lifting your face up and forcing you to look up.

Again, his eyes held that same intensity. “Still won’t look at me, I see,” he said, very softly. “Y/N, you know I never meant to embarrass you.”

“I know that,” you said, face heating.

“We’re talking about this,” he promised determinedly. “I’m going to let you sleep now, but we’re talking about this afterward. I’m not waiting any longer. Okay?”

“Okay,” you whispered.

He leaned down and kissed your forehead, letting his lips linger there for a long time before he murmured reassuringly, “You have _nothing_ to be worried about, Y/N. I promise.”

Your breath was caught in your throat and you couldn’t say anything as he just gave you one last soft smile and turned to go, crossing the room and throwing you a glance over his shoulder before closing the door behind him. 

Your entire body relaxed; you hadn’t realized how much tension had been in it just by being in such close proximity to him. Even so, you wished that he had stayed with you to hold you while you slept.

You forced yourself to change into some more comfortable sleeping clothes, even though your fingers were somewhat stiff and mechanical. You also forced yourself to lie down in the bed and snuggle up under the covers. It was difficult to fall asleep, not only because of everything that had happened, but because the smell of Draco’s cologne that permeated his bed sheets was intoxicating and filled you with a longing so powerful that you almost couldn’t breathe. 

It took a long time, and you shed more tears before doing so, but eventually, finally, you were able to drift off to sleep.

* * *

When you woke, you were frightened.

Instead of waking up slowly and steadily, you shot up to a sitting position, looking around wildly and gasping, until your eyes fell on Draco sitting over in an armchair on the other side of the room. He had been reading a book, but upon hearing your movement he closed it and looked over, frowning.

“Everything all right?” he asked quickly.

“Yes,” you breathed hurriedly.

“Want some tea?” 

He gestured to the tray on the table beside him and you nodded slowly, shifting to stand up and walk over to the table, sinking into the chair opposite him. For something to do with your hands, you poured yourself some tea and took a sip.

“How are you feeling?” he pressed.

“Fine,” you answered with a shrug, taking another sip. “Considering.”

He was quiet for a long moment. “Could we talk?” he asked finally, very carefully.

Your eyes darted up to meet his to see that he was examining your face intently. “Of course,” you barely managed to get out, and your eyes automatically flew back down to your tea.

“Look at me, Y/N,” he said, quietly.

You set your tea cup down and looked up. “Sorry,” you mumbled.

He reached forward suddenly and took your hands in his, intertwining your fingers with his and a slight, concentrated frown on his face. He then brought them up to his lips and kissed your knuckles, similar to how he had done on your birthday, and then he gave you a smile. Something in his eyes made you realize that he was distinctly nervous. Your heart did a little flutter in your chest and your throat tightened, but not in a bad way. You both already knew.

“On your birthday,” he began, in a low voice, squeezing your hands a little, “After we got back home, we came here, to my bed. And as you know, something…happened between us.”

Your heart stopped fluttering and instantly sped into overdrive instead, and you just felt your cheeks warming as he observed you carefully. His eyes were soft but his face was incredibly serious.

“What was it?” you breathed.

“Er,” he began, haltingly, and you saw his cheeks tinge slightly with pink. You just waited, partially mortified and partially enthralled, and staring at him with wide eyes. One side of his mouth quirked up a little in a cautious grin. “Let’s just say I gave you a birthday present.” When you just stared back at him, not comprehending, he flicked his eyes downward momentarily and then back up to your face with a very pointed look. “With my mouth.”

You blinked. “Oh…. _Oh_.”

You just sat, frozen and thunderstruck, trying to process the information.

It was still easier not to look at his face right now, so you just stared almost unseeingly at his torso, trying to decide how you felt about it. There were too many things to feel, and it was confusing. Thrilled. Curious. Electrified. But also: disappointed. A little regretful. And very, very awkward, because he had very… _intimate_ details in his head and you, of course, had nothing.

“Are you all right?” he asked quietly, with another hand squeeze, and finally, you looked up again. His brow was slightly furrowed, and there was worry and hesitation on his face. “I really am sorry I didn’t tell you right away. I was going to, when I came over the day after, and then also before…”

“I know,” you hastened to assure him. “That’s not what I – that’s – ” You were still a little too stunned to speak, and you didn’t see the unease cross his features before he made them carefully neutral.

“Who started it?” you asked quickly, but kicking yourself almost immediately after for letting the question slip out, despite being desperately curious.

His mouth twitched. “Er – I did. Mostly.”

“What does _that_ mean?” You gaped at him.

“Well I – ” He ran a hand through his hair and threw you a nervous sort of smile that made your chest flutter even wilder than before. “Well we were lying here like we do, you know, with me hugging you from behind and I…I kissed your neck. And then you whipped around and sort of – er – jumped me.”

“Oh,” you whispered, face heating to a point that was almost painful. “I’m – I’m _sorry_ – ”

He let out a little sound that was a mixture of choked laughter and outrageous disbelief. “Y/N, you didn’t do it out of nowhere. I was flirting with you beforehand. Most of the night, really. I’m the one who should be sorry. I know we had both been drinking, so I promise I wasn’t trying to do anything. But you were so _close_ to me and had just taken off your damn dress, and…” 

He stopped immediately, closing his mouth abruptly and his cheeks coloring. You stared, fascinated, heart thudding hard.

“What, I was naked the whole time, or something?” you asked, wondering if your drunken self had really been so confident that you would have stripped down right in front of him and leaped into his bed.

“No!” he said quickly. “No, you just changed into pajamas, but you asked me to unzip you and – and do you regret it?” he asked quickly, his grip tightening on your hands a little and searching your face.

“I…wouldn’t say it like that,” you answered slowly. “I just feel…strange.”

“Strange,” he repeated, eyes moving quickly over your face, and you saw them flash with the slightest hint of desperation. “Strange how?”

_He actually thinks I might not want him._

You wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it, so you just returned the pressure on his hands, swallow hard, and give him a small, encouraging smile. “I just wish I could remember,” you said, in a small, shy voice. “That’s all. I’m glad about…about _you_.”

His entire body relaxed. And then suddenly he’s giving you a radiant smile, but when he scoots his chair forward a bit it turns playful. It only takes this mischievous little smile and the way his eyes are now burning at you to set your entire body ablaze and your heart galloping along at a speed even faster than before. “I wish you could too,” he murmurs, bringing your knuckles to his lips once more before getting to his feet and pulling you up with him. He reached out and took you by the waist to bring you closer, and very slowly, he leaned down to the side of your neck and kissed it. You can feel that he is smiling when he pulls back slightly to your ear to say, in a voice suddenly much deeper than before, “But we could make plenty of new _memories_ for you, Y/N. If you wanted.”

At these words and the tone in which he says them, you feel all your fear melt away, and suddenly you can’t stand it anymore. You are just about to grab him and kiss him senseless, but he beats you to it before you can. His hands come to hold your face and then his lips are on yours and they are desperate. 

They are warm and soft and within mere seconds there is a chaotic, passionate energy in the movements of his mouth on yours and it’s too much, so when you feel the tip of his tongue against yours, asking nonverbal permission to deepen the kisses further, you immediately let him, your hands sliding up to roughly grip his hair. But then you move them to push rather roughly at his chest until he’s against the wall and you’re pressed against him as tightly as possible. He lets out a surprised and delighted little sound against your mouth which makes you grin triumphantly, but then you feel him smiling back and before you know it, his hands are back on your waist and he’s lifting you up.

Instinctively, you wrap your legs around him while in the air and then you gasp in delight as he suddenly spins, pinning you roughly against the wall instead and supporting the rest of your weight there with his arms before dipping to pepper kisses across your neck. You throw your head back, chest rising and falling rapidly as you take short, rapid, breaths to try and steady yourself. 

But he seemed to have no intention of letting you do any such thing. Because in between his kisses he murmured, again right in your ear and with a voice like silk, “Would you like a repeat of your birthday, my love?” He swept a line with his lips across your collarbone again. “After all,” he continued quietly, “I have no intention of only making you come just once today. Or even just twice.”

“ _Fuck_ ,” was all you could get out, and he came back up to kiss you, nibbling slightly on your lower lip and smiling against your mouth.

“Oh, yes,” he murmured teasingly, “We’ll do that as well.”

“Now,” you pleaded, but there was a commanding tone in your voice. “Draco, _please_.”

You heard a hiss escape his teeth as he exhaled sharply and he dropped you to stand on your feet against the wall, and you pulled back and opened your eyes to look into his face, relishing in the fact that you had made him momentarily lose his self-control. His eyes had darkened and his hair was disheveled where you had grabbed at it in fistfuls as you had kissed him; his chest, too, was moving rapidly with quick, panting breaths. He had never, in your opinion, looked more attractive. There was a brief moment, something that almost felt suspended in time, where you just gazed at each other, eyes alight with anticipation. And then he reached out and cupped your cheek, and his eyes were melting.

And then he was kissing you again, and you were both fumbling with buttons and belt buckles and yanking at trousers and shirt hems. He ran his fingers over your rib cage and your stomach and mumbled, in between kisses, “Y/N – _Y/N_ – do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted you?”

“No,” you gasped, mostly unable to concentrate because his fingertips were like fire on your skin.

“Ages,” he replied hoarsely, deliberately slowing the pace of his lips on yours.

These kisses were the exact opposite of the others before them; they were unhurried and gentle, and a few minutes of this coupled with his fingers tracing patterns on your face and running over your neck and stomach was all it took to make your toes start to curl and every muscle tense.

“So I’m certainly not going to rush any of it,” he muttered. “I’m going to make it worth the wait.” He suddenly picked you up once more and you dug your fingers into his shoulder blades, surprised, as he began to carry you across the room, his hands on your cheeks and his lips hardly ever leaving yours. 

“Let me show you,” he breathed, and then he threw you onto his bed.

* * *

True to his word, Draco did not stop at one, or two, or even three.

You rolled off of him after number four and for a long while you both just lay there, attempting to catch your breath and return to your senses.

And then he drew his arm around your shoulder and pulled you into his side, as he always did in between, and you snuggled in and lay your head on his bare chest with a little sigh of satisfaction. After some time, you found your voice.

“No more,” you warned, a little weakly. “I can’t feel my legs.”

He began to laugh. He turned his head, tilted your chin up, and kissed you long and hard. “Then I’ve done my job, haven’t I?” he teased, and you opened your eyes to see his glittering smugly down at you.

“I’d say so,” you replied, smiling lazily before closing your eyes again and sighing. You were in a state of complete and total relaxation.

“I would say that was all clearly _very_ necessary,” he said, and you felt his fingers moving some hair from your face. When you peeked up, he was fixing you with a very cheeky grin. “If we would have done this years ago, _maybe_ we could have stopped at two, but as it was – ”

“Shut up,” you said, laughing and smacking him in the chest with your hand before lying down again and wrapping your arms around him. And then you realized what he had said. “Has it been like this for you for…for years, then?”

“If with ‘ _like_ _this_ ’ you mean that I’m madly in love with you, then yes.” His arms tightened in their embrace around you, but you didn’t stay in it.

Instead, you pushed out a little and pulled back slightly to prop yourself on his chest and look down at him. “I love you too, you know,” you told him seriously.

His eyes flickered, and then he cupped your face. “Y/N,” he began gently.

“I mean it!” you insisted, frowning as you cut him off. “Also for…for a long time, I think. I think I told myself it was platonic, because I was scared, but…well, as you can see…” You gestured up and down the absolute chaos that were the sheets on the bed.

He raised an eyebrow, grinning widely. “See what? It’s not platonic, and that you are here, naked, in my bed? After the highlights of, quite possibly, my entire existence?”

“Shut _up_ ,” you said again, laughing and placing your hand over his mouth. “I was being serious.”

He moved your hand away, eyes dancing a little, and then he pulled you back down closer and kissed you again. “So was I, but then I’ll be serious about something else,” he said. “Don’t be scared. This doesn’t change anything. We were always close, we always spent a lot of time together, we always fought. We always loved each other. The only thing that’s really going to change is _this._ ” He teasingly mimicked your gesture up and down the bed and you smacked him yet again, rolling your eyes, but unable to contain your smile. “And quite frankly,” he drawled, looking very smug, “This kind of regular, vigorous exercise will probably only wildly improve our life expectancy, not to mention our moods, so I see no real reason to complain about it.”

You giggled, and he just grinned at you, but then he continued on, more seriously, “And the other thing, of course, is that I’m actually going to _tell_ you that I love you and adore you. Every single day. But that’s all. Otherwise we can just go on as we always have, Y/N.”

“That sounds good to me,” you said, snuggling up under his chin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Language, mention of horror/violence, etc, and, ahem….(!!)while not descriptive & graphic smut, let’s just say there is sex and intent to sex it up and strong sexual themes, descriptions, concepts, ayyyy. You know what though I think it makes the PG-13 cut but I’ll say R to be safe.


	17. Sixteen.

You lay with Draco for some time, his fingers running up and down your bare spine, and you probably would have fallen asleep had you not felt the pit in your stomach that told you that you hadn’t eaten anything the entire day.

And indeed, when glancing outside you saw that it was dark.

You propped yourself up again to look down at him. His eyes had been closed, but they opened at your movement. “I need a shower, and food,” you told him seriously, before rolling off of him.

“I’ll come with you,” he agreed, shifting to sit up and put his feet on the floor next to the bed.

You stood and began sifting through his dresser, looking for some clothes to wear. “Fine, but…but no funny business in the shower,” you warned, spinning to face him.

He turned toward you, his eyebrow arched playfully, and he was making no attempt to hide that his eyes were shamelessly dragging over you while you stood there, trying to find clothes. 

You just wiggled a finger in warning at him, trying not to let it affect you.

He just smirked. “ _Funny_ _business_? What are you, an eighty year old woman? You’re even wagging a finger at me.” You stopped with the finger immediately, rolling your eyes and turning back to his dresser to pull out one of your favorite shirts of his (it was so soft) and a pair of loose pajama pants.

“Oh yes, just help yourself to my things, by the way,” he teased further, and your response was to take a random shirt and throw it at his face, but he just caught it with a grin before standing up to gather his clothes from where they had been earlier discarded on the floor.

The shower was quick, even though showering with Draco and watching the water droplets go down his skin was…tempting. Really, you probably would have easily forgotten your rule about giving yourself a rest and jumped him again had you not been so bloody hungry, so you mentally filed the shower as a place on your to do list (pun very much intended), and then proceeded with him down to the kitchen, where you sincerely hoped there was already something prepared.

There was: a plate of cold sandwiches that had never looked better to you in your entire life. And what was more, Narcissa was there too, standing at the bar and preparing herself a cocktail. When she turned to look at you both, her eyes were even more hazy, and she smiled vaguely.

“There you are,” she said warmly. “What have you two been so busy doing today?”

You both stood there, unable to come up with an answer quickly enough for the silence not to turn awkward, and her eyes swept over you – how you both had wet hair and were smiling sheepishly – and her face flooded in comprehension. “Ah,” she said lightly, with the hint of a smile as she rose the glass to her lips. “Never mind. Best keep that answer to yourselves, I think.”

Draco just chuckled and swept forward to the platter of sandwiches, looking at you expectantly. Face scarlet and completely mortified, you scuttled forward after him to pluck a sandwich and lean on the counter to eat it.

“Would you like a cocktail, my dear?” Narcissa asked you after a moment, and when you looked up you saw that her eyes were warm. You relaxed a little bit, slightly less embarrassed.

“Oh, no thank you,” you told her gratefully. “After my birthday hangover I think I’d like to stop drinking for months. Maybe even years.”

She just gave you a tinkling laugh and swept forward to kiss Draco on the cheek and squeeze your arm affectionately. When you saw her up close like this, you saw that her eyes were even more clouded, and you wondered if she had been drinking the entire day. And then she turned and began sweeping gracefully out of the kitchen, but not before turning to say over her shoulder, with a smirk very similar to Draco’s mischievous one, “And as much as I’d like a grandchild, children, please do use the fertility spell until you’re married, would you?”

And then she was gone, leaving both you and Draco to gape after her.

“Did your mother,” you said finally, very slowly, and unsure whether to laugh or feel horrified, “Just…tease us about sex? Twice?”

“She was drunk,” he said, and something about his voice made you look over. And indeed, his lips were a little pursed and his eyebrows were furrowed as he stared down at his plate.

“What is it?” you asked, concerned.

“She’s just been drinking a lot lately,” he answered, forcing a smile and coming to stand closer to you to eat his sandwich. “I think she’s lonely.”

“She could have stayed and talked with us!” you said, feeling suddenly worried too.

“I think she just misses my father,” he said, with a sigh. “He’ll be out of Azkaban in a few months, but until then I may have to start hiding things from the liquor closet.”

“Ugh. Even the word liquor still makes me feel nauseous,” you said, leaning your head against him while devouring your third sandwich and hoping to cheer him up. It seemed to have worked, because he just laughed under his breath and wrapped an arm around your shoulders.

“It was a good night, though,” he murmured into your ear.

“Stop teasing,” you complained, hitting him with your shoulder.

“It was,” he shot back, laughing. “Even earlier. You got all feisty about some woman flirting with me at a club, by the way. Commanded me _very_ bossily not to fuck her, in exactly those words.”

“I did not,” you gasped, rather appalled. 

He just chuckled again, turning to stand in front of you and nudge you backward, effectively pinning you between him and the counter with his eyes now blazing again. You knew how to recognize this look after four times, and you felt a very familiar tingle start in your toes and begin to travel up your body.

“You definitely did,” he replied casually, smiling before leaning down to kiss you, dragging his tongue over your bottom lip before leaning back to murmur, “I wanted to rip your clothes off and take you right there on the table.”

“You should have,” you breathed. With a little growl his mouth was on yours again, and then after some time his hand was coming down to your upper thigh to hike it up and wrap around his waist, and you were quite sure that clothes were coming off soon and this was going to continue right here on this very counter, but –

“ _Well_ ,” said a very cheeky voice, and you both broke apart to see every single one of your friends standing in the doorway, with huge grins. “ _This_ is quite the development,” continued Theo, strolling forward into the room and plucking a sandwich casually from the platter. “Supremely unsurprising, really, but if you two could restrain from this sort of behavior while we’re all in the room that would be, you know. Optimal. Not required, but optimal.”

“I’m going to go ahead and redact his statement and say required,” drawled Blaise, arching an eyebrow and wrinkling his nose. “Also, do keep in mind that we all use these surfaces.”

Draco just rolled his eyes and straightened, stepping away from you and taking another sandwich. “Did I _say_ you could have a sandwich, Theo?”

“Oh, you know he’s too skinny, Draco, just let him eat,” said Pansy, strutting forward with Daphne beside her, and immediately Daphne pulled you into a hug.

“How’s it going? Any news from the Ministry?” Daphne asked softly.

“Nothing,” you said. “Are you _sure_ none of you will come stay here? Then at least we’d all be together. It makes me so nervous after…everything.” You shuddered.

“Our places are just as well protected as here,” said Daphne reassuringly, squeezing your hand.

You bit your lip, not quite convinced, and besides, it was really the power in numbers that you wanted. It would feel safer, somehow, knowing that everyone was in the same place, ready to defend each other, just like at the Gala. You especially did not like that Theo was alone in his huge mansion, as his father was also in Azkaban, and Blaise was often alone in his, due to his mother traveling a lot. But they had insisted, and they wouldn’t be convinced if they didn’t want to.

It was a pleasant time with your friends, though. Blaise poured wine that he had brought (which you abstained from – you hadn’t been kidding when you told Narcissa you couldn’t even think about alcohol for a while) and Draco arranged for more food to be made, and the conversation was lively and loud as always, and by the time they had left you were feeling content and happy again, despite everything that had happened.

But when you went to Draco’s bedroom to change into some of your pajamas that had been picked up from your house and then meet him in the living room to play a game of chess afterward, that happy bubble burst almost immediately, because there was another letter sitting on your suitcase.

You strode forward and snatched it up, heart pounding. Automatically, you scanned the room, but it was empty, and you noted that the window was open.

Knowing full well that you would have to show it to Draco this time, you still decided to open it alone first so that you could have your reaction without him. You didn’t want to show any more fear in front of Draco, because something told you that he was going to freak out when he saw it. This suspicion was only confirmed when you read the letter – easily the worst one yet.

_Oh, sweetheart._

_So much has happened since we last spoke a day ago, no?_

_You found my little surprise, and despite knowing the consequences for upsetting me, you still expressly disobeyed my orders not to tell anyone about our correspondence, and told the Ministry of Magic as well as all your little friends. You even gave the Ministry the previous two letters, didn’t you? Very naughty indeed. I tried to warn you, Y/N, so expect another death for this._

_Something else I find interesting is that you are now staying at Malfoy Manor and fucking the Malfoy boy. Oh, don’t worry. I’ll save your lover boy for last. And since I’m sure you are now showing him these notes, I’ll be sure to include in detail what exactly I will do to you after I kill him. Or perhaps I can do it before I kill him, so he has to live with it for a while? I certainly don’t like Malfoys, so that could be good fun. Let’s see…_

The rest of the note was so horrific and vile and graphic that you could hardly string the words together as you read, but you certainly got the message. The page became blurry, and your hands began to shake. 

You were suddenly very, very glad you had read this without Draco in the room.

And you were just contemplating that perhaps you shouldn’t show it to him after all and wondering where you could hide it when he came into the room with a questioning look on his face.

“What’s taking you so long? Are you…” He trailed off, seeing the paper in your hand and the way you were standing there, frozen, with the horrified look on your face.

Immediately, he strode forward and made to take it out of your hands, but you stepped back quickly and held it behind your back, looking up at him fearfully. His eyes were wild. “Give it to me,” he said, in a voice that suggested he was forcing himself to remain calm.

“I don’t think you should read it, Draco,” you whispered shakily.

“I think that I should definitely read it,” he said in a hard voice.

“It doesn’t matter,” you tried to say, but something moved across his face that made you regret saying it, and you quickly tried to remedy it. “It will only upset you – ”

“It’s upsetting me that you aren’t letting me read it,” he said roughly, cutting you off. “You weren’t going to tell me about it, were you? You were going to just hide it away.”

“I don’t want you to worry,” you pleaded, not quite answering his question, because you honestly weren’t sure what you would have done had he not walked into the room.

“And you think, somehow, that I’m not already worried out of my mind?” His eyes were blazing. “Do you want me, Y/N? As a partner?”

You blanched. “I – of _course_ I do – why would you ask that right now?”

“Good,” he said, sounding rather strangled now and his eyes sweeping over your face. “I want us to be a couple, and one that shares things with each other. Even unpleasant things. Why should you bear this alone? I’m signing up for all of it, Y/N. And even if we _weren’t_ a couple, this entire thing involves me _and_ all our friends as well. So give me the bloody letter, and don’t even think about not showing me something like this again.” His eyes were narrowed.

Feeling your cheeks flush, you held out the letter, biting your lip worriedly as his eyes dropped to the page. Watching him read it was worse, somehow, than reading it yourself. You could tell he was trying to keep his face neutral and expressionless, and all things considered he actually did a pretty good job. But every once in a while he would be unable to contain the contortion of his face into horror, or fury, and his eyes flashed multiple times as they moved down the letter. More than that, his hands had begun to shake by the third line. When he had finished it, he looked up at you with a glint in his eyes that you didn’t recognize nor like.

“How does he know?” you whispered. “How would he know about the Ministry, or about – about us like that? He knew you were staying at my place before, but how would he suddenly know that we’re sleeping together?”

You felt sick. Was Malfoy Manor somehow not safe? _  
_

_How in the world would he know?_

Automatically, you glanced around the room again.

“Lucky guess,” murmured Draco, who had begun to pace the room and was gripping desperately at his hair. “It has to be. The only people that could know details like that are…” He stopped suddenly and turned to look at you with a horrified look on his face, and you knew what he was thinking, because you had suddenly just realized it yourself.

“No,” you said vehemently, shaking your head. “You’re not thinking it.”

“I have to consider it,” he said hoarsely. “Your safety is at stake.”

“So is yours!” you said, angrily. “ _And_ theirs! But not a single one of our friends would harm us, Draco, you know that…”

You didn’t want to believe it. You couldn’t. There had to be another explanation.

He just nodded curtly and began pacing again, seemingly unable to stand still for too long. “I’m going to kill him,” said Draco finally, and a chill went up your spine. Something was wrong with his voice. There was a simmering fury, but it was the way that he was promising it that made you shiver. Like it was inevitable, and there would be heavy suffering involved.

“We should let the Ministry know,” you said, hoping to calm him down.

“Fuck the Ministry,” he growled angrily. “How would he even know we told them? Maybe they’re in on it. I don’t trust them, and even if they find him, they’ll just lock him up anyway. That’s not good enough. He’s going to die for the things he wrote, I promise you that.”

That tone was back in his voice, and you bit your lip again and reached out an imploring arm. “Draco… _please_ don’t do anything rash.”

“There won’t be anything rash about it. I’ll plan it carefully. I will find him, torture him, and kill him.” He looked over at you then, and there was a frightening fervor shining in his eyes, a light that you didn’t recognize. Tentatively, you stepped forward and gently touched his arm.

“You’re scaring me,” you told him quietly. “Please come back? I need you.”

He closed his eyes for a long moment, swaying on the spot. “This is why you didn’t want to tell.”

“Yes,” you admitted, moving your hand up and down his arm in a soothing motion. He caught your hand and took it in his, lacing his fingers through it before opening his eyes to look at you. To your relief, they were back to something that looked more sane, though he still looked anguished.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, frowning at the floor.

You just leaned up to kiss him. “I love you so ridiculously much, Draco Malfoy.”

He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close with a sigh. “And I love you. Everything will be fine. You’ll see. These letters are just meant to scare us, but we won’t let it work. Okay?”

“But we should at least check on the others, shouldn’t we? Warn them?” you suggested, and you felt his head move above you as he nodded in agreement. And then he took your hand and pulled you to the fireplace so that you could call each of your friends on the Floo, one by one.

Everyone was home. Everyone was fine.

It didn’t make you feel that much better, nor did it make you feel any safer.

* * *

Sometime very late in the night, or perhaps very early in the morning, you shot awake. Something was tickling at your skin, the curious prickling that you were being watched. Your eyes scanned the room as best you could with the moonlight coming in through the window, and your heart was pounding even though you weren’t quite sure why.

And then you saw it – the bedroom door was open, and it hadn’t been when you had gone to bed.

You could have sworn you heard a quiet, masculine chuckle, and saw a rustle of movement – a tall, dark shape – before it was gone, and you were unsure about everything. Nevertheless, the panic kicked in, and you reached over to frantically shake Draco awake.

“Draco!” you whispered frantically, shaking his shoulder. “Draco, wake up!”

His body jerked and his eyes flew open. He seemed only partially awake, but as soon as he saw you hovering over him with wide eyes and a frightened look on your face, clutching at him, his features immediately became more alert. “What is it?” he asked quickly, joining you in a sitting position.

“The door,” you murmured. “It’s open, and I – I _saw_ something…”

His gaze moved to the bedroom door with a little frown. “What did you see?”

“A shadow,” you said. “I think. And I thought I heard a laugh…”

He slowly turned to look at you again. “Are you sure you weren’t having a bad dream?”

“ _Yes_ ,” you hissed, irritated. “Do you see the door? You never leave it open.”

“Maybe it was a house elf?” he suggested, reaching out to soothingly touch your hand. “They clean at night, and maybe they just started to come into the wrong room…”

“It was tall,” you insisted. And then you hesitated. “I think.”

Draco didn’t seem very convinced. “I think you’re just stressed and scared, love. I’m sure you were just having a bad dream.”

You glared at him. “Don’t patronize me, Draco.”

“I’m not trying to be patronizing,” he said carefully. “I’m just trying to make you feel safe.”

“I don’t feel safe,” you whispered. “I really think someone was here.”

He sighed a little, but took your cheek in his hand and leaned forward to kiss you and then hug you tightly for a moment before moving to start standing up. “I’ll go check around, okay?”

“Not alone!” you rushed to say, scrambling to stand up with him and clutching tightly at his arm.

Malfoy Manor was gigantic, so this was no small task. Systematically, the two of you made you way through the mansion, both with your wands, and with Draco flicking to light the lamps through every corridor and room that you checked. When you came to Narcissa’s room, he even slowly opened the door to peek inside, but she wasn’t there. You clutched at Draco’s arm so tightly it probably left marks. “Your mother – ” you gasped fearfully, but he shook his head.

“Don’t be worried,” he said gently. “She was always a night owl, so she’s probably out and about somewhere. We’ll keep an eye out for her, though it’s possible we’ll miss her.” And then his face scrunched up a little. “Or we’ll find her when we check the liquor cabinet,” he muttered, but it was under his breath and you were unsure if it was meant for you or not.

“Draco…” you began sadly, peering up at him, but he just gave you a forced sort of smile and took your hand to pull you further along down the hall.

It must have been at least forty minutes later that you were about to finish checking every single room, ending at the library, and by that point being awake for so long, with the lights on and walking beside Draco, you were even less sure of what you had seen. When you both entered the library, you saw that it wasn’t empty. Narcissa was there, her back to the doorway, perusing one of the shelves to the far side of the room on the left.

“Mother,” said Draco immediately, striding forward. “Couldn’t sleep?”

Narcissa jolted a little in surprise at the voice of her son, and then turned to see the two of you standing there. And then she smiled softly, gesturing you both over to her. “Oh, not really. And besides, I needed to look for a book anyway.” She held the book up to show you that it was about Italy. “I was planning on going with Esmeralda this upcoming weekend. She’s visiting family and asked me along, and I thought – unless you two need me here – ”

“No, you should go,” Draco urged, stepping forward and taking one of her hands and looking very earnest. “It would do you good, I think.”

_Surely he’s also thinking it would be safer for her to get out of here for a while_ , you thought, feeling a violent surge of affection squeeze your chest for your boyfriend as you watched him smile at his mother. “That does sound really lovely,” you encouraged, and Draco threw you a grateful look.

“What are you two doing up and wandering about?” she asked, her eyes darting between you rather anxiously, taking in your tired faces.

Draco glanced at you. “Y/N thought she saw something that frightened her.”

“Oh dear,” said Narcissa, frowning. “What was it, darling?”

“A shadow,” you told her, biting your lip. “I could have sworn I saw a shadow in the doorway. The door was open, which was strange anyway, and then I thought I saw…someone. At first Draco suggested it could be a house elf, but it was tall and…” You struggled to remember back to it. You had just been waking up, and you were becoming less and less certain about it.

Narcissa’s eyes flickered. “Oh! Oh, I think that was me, dear. That was some time ago, no? I saw that the door was open – perhaps the house elves left it open – so I was just closing it. I’m _so_ sorry that I frightened you.”

The tension in your body relaxed. “I thought I heard a laugh, but I…I must have been having a bad dream before…” You said, laughing a little nervously.

Draco slipped an arm around your shoulders and pulled you very tightly to him, leaning over to kiss you on the temple. “It’s natural, love,” he said kindly. “After the letter today…”

“Another one?” Narcissa looked horrified.

You both nodded mutely, and she reached out for both of your hands, looking distressed. “Perhaps I _should_ stay here…”

“ _No_ ,” you both insisted, very adamantly.

“Go have fun,” finished Draco, smiling at her. “Really, Mother, it’s all fine here.” He kissed your temple again. “We’re safe,” he murmured in your ear.

You just nodded, feeling much better, and Narcissa smiled again at the both of you before saying, “Draco, dear, would you please go and fetch Y/N a Dreamless Sleeping Potion?” She looked at you with a kind, motherly look on her face that made you want to cry. It had been a long time since someone had looked at you that way. “I think you’ll find that helps, dear.”

“Of course,” said Draco. He smiled reassuringly at you, kissed you softly, and then exited the library, glancing one last time over his shoulder.

As soon as he was gone, Narcissa turned to you and took your hands. “So,” she said, with a small smile. “You and my son.”

“Oh,” you stammered, rather nervous about this particular conversation. “Um – ”

She just let out a soft, tinkling laugh. “I know Draco. He’s been in love with you since he was sixteen years old, did you know that?”

“Er – no,” you said, blushing a little. “I – Well I’ve also loved him a long time.”

“Oh, I know that too,” said Narcissa, rather cheekily. It was incredible, really, how similar she looked to Draco when she looked mischievous. “The amount of time you’ve spent at this Manor! Oh yes, I’ve known for ages. I’m so glad you’re staying with us, my dear.”

“Thank you,” you whispered, feeling yourself get a little choked. “I really appreciate it.”

“You’re like a daughter to me,” said Narcissa, squeezing your hands affectionately. And then she smiled. “And I daresay if Draco has his way that you’ll officially be my daughter one day.” You just stared at her, feeling rather dazed, and she laughed softly again. “I know that you will take very good care of him while I’m away in Italy.”

“Of course,” you breathed earnestly, meeting her intent gaze. “I’d do anything for him. Truly, I would. And for you, Narcissa. I’ve always been so grateful to you for letting me stay here and – and everything. Also when I was younger – ”

“Oh yes, that horrible business with your parents,” she said, sighing and leaning forward to kiss your cheek. “That was awful, dear, but you can always come to me with anything you need.”

“Thank you,” you choked out again, slightly overwhelmed.

“I’ve got the Potion,” said Draco’s voice, and he came striding over, glancing back and forth between you and his mother with curiosity on his face. “What were you two talking about?”

“Matters for women,” said Narcissa, sending you a wink and picking up the book on Italy from where she had set it down on the table beside her. “I’m going to try and finally get some sleep, children.” She kissed you both on the cheek again, bid goodnight, and swept regally from the library, the book tucked under her arm.

“I’m sorry,” you said, as soon as she was gone. You gave Draco a sheepish look. “I feel awful that we’ve looked around like this for something so stupid…”

He gave you a tired but kind smile and pulled you into a tight hug. “Don’t worry.”

“Should we try and get some sleep again?” you asked tentatively. You felt like a frightened little idiot, and you also felt terrible for having woken him up like this. You were uncertain that you would get back to sleep tonight – it was nearly five in the morning by now – and he just leaned back to look you with a glint in his eyes.

Slowly, he began to smile.

“Or, another idea,” he said quietly, leaning down to press his lips into your neck very softly, causing you to shiver. “We could put this library to good use. And that table over there.”

“Do you ever stop?” you asked breathlessly. You had wanted it to sound more stern, but you knew that you didn’t. You weren’t complaining. Not really.

“Only if you want me to,” he murmured, moving his lips across your neck and causing you to throw back your head with a sigh. And then he chuckled, reaching for your pajama bottoms, looping his fingers into the waistband, and slowly pulling downward while still kissing at your throat. “But something tells me you’re not going to tell me to stop. Or am I wrong?”

“Arsehole,” you gasped, with no real venom behind the word, and you felt him chuckle against your skin before you roughly took his hair between your fingers and pulled his face up to kiss him.

* * *

The next few days were a strange mix of tension and relaxation.

At any moment, you were waiting to hear dreadful news. You had Owled Hermione Granger and she had come to see the note, her eyes flickering as she had read it, and then she had taken it in to the Ministry as more evidence. You had asked her if she thought that perhaps the Ministry could be in on it, and she had hesitated before saying that anything was possible.

“Not reassuring,” Draco had said after she had left, frowning deeply.

Multiple times a day, you used the Floo to call your other friends, and they always came by once for lunch or dinner. These times – as well as your times with Draco where you were both not on edge about the things happening – felt normal again. Happy. You could forget about the impending threat of death and just talk and laugh with them, at least for a little while.

Being with Draco, of course, felt right. 

It was like a large and important puzzle piece in your life that had been waiting to be fit into the greater picture suddenly had clicked, and every time you looked at him and realized that he was really, _actually_ yours, a blaze of happiness would shoot through your chest. You could touch him or hug him or kiss him whenever you pleased. You could push him into the nearest room and jump him whenever you so desired, and you took advantage of this often. Sex was a good stress reliever, anyway, and the two of you still had a lot of years to make up for.

The day of the funeral for Amanda finally arrived, and you were not ready for it in the slightest. Her family had invited you, and since you could bring a guest you were, of course, bringing Draco. It was with a heavy heart that you slid into a simple black dress and slipped on your heels. When Draco came in looking like utter perfection in a tasteful black suit and tie, you only wordlessly turned for him to zip you. He pressed his lips on your upper back before moving the zipper up, and he must have realized you were shaking, because he murmured, “Are you all right?”

You just nodded. You weren’t quite sure what was happening to you at the moment, and you tried to analyze it. You still felt responsible for what had happened to Amanda, and today you would be facing her family. Another part of you simply missed her, and your chest would ache at the horrible way she had died. And, of course, it would all be another reminder of the man writing you letters and threatening everyone in your life.

Draco took your shoulders and turned you around to face him, with eyes like melted iron. He leaned down to capture your lips with his. “I know this is going to be hard,” he said softly, against your mouth. “I love you so much.”

It wouldn’t do to cry already, so you just inhaled shakily and fought the tightness in your chest and nodded furiously. “I know. I’m fine. Really.”

The actual funeral was somehow both better and worse than you had anticipated.

It was better because Amanda’s family seemed truly grateful to have you there, the service was beautiful, and you didn’t cry. It was worse because the guilt intensified the longer it went on, and when you saw your boss afterward he told you, in a rather dead sort of voice, that the bar still wouldn’t be able to open for months, and even if it did, he wasn’t sure about getting business anymore. He didn’t say it, but essentially, it meant that he and all the employees were out of work.

You were still thinking about it when you left the funeral – how some of the employees had children, how your boss had always been good to you and had lost his business, and how not a single one of them had a wealthy boyfriend to take care of their financial woes.

It had been ages since you had been out, and though Draco was reluctant at first, you told him if you didn’t get out of the Manor for at least a little while you’d go mad, so you went to Diagon Alley with Draco and went to a little cafe. By the time you had gotten there you still hadn’t spoken much. He would glance at you every once in a while, but didn’t say anything, either, perhaps wanting to give you time to process everything that had happened at the funeral; but finally, once you had both settled into a table, you looked up at him with tears in your eyes. “Not everyone has someone like you to pay for them when everything falls apart,” you said quietly, feeling wretched. “Some of the others have families to support. What will they do?”

His brow furrowed. “Are you feeling guilty about that, too?” he asked.

“I just wish it was different,” you whispered miserably.

He just looked at you for a long time, and then he reached out to take your hand across the table. “It can be,” he said determinedly. “I was already planning on sending Amanda’s family money. But we’ll send something to your boss, and all the employees too. Just give me their names and I’ll take care of the rest.” He kissed your knuckles, watching you very intently.

“ _Really_?” you whispered, eyes wide. 

You knew the Malfoys were wealthy – your parents, too, had been quite wealthy, but it had been so long since you had benefited from it that you had forgotten completely what it was like to not worry about money. And you had never imagined he could so easily give money to so many people.

He smiled a little. “Of course.”

You felt some of the tension in your chest and the knot in your stomach loosen, and for a moment you just stared at him. And then you leaned across the table and kissed him. It escalated quickly and began bordering on inappropriate, but you found that you didn’t care about that one bit right now.

Really, you should have.

The flash and click of a camera alerted you to the presence of the press.

And that would have been enough of a problem, except, apparently, it wasn’t.

It was the reason the press was here at all that made things so much worse, and that reason strode over to your table, folded his arms, and glared at the two of you.


	18. Seventeen, Part One.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings in the notes ;)

“I knew it,” said Ethan coldly.

He was wearing his familiar bright yellow robes with the little wasp on the breast, and you assumed that meant he was either on his way home from a weekend match or on his way to one. This was confirmed when your eyes moved to see more players clustered near the register, ordering drinks, and yet another reporter and paparazzi lingering eagerly next to them.

_Probably going to write five articles about their fucking drink order_ _like it’s the most fascinating thing in the world_ , you thought furiously.

But so much worse was the second reporter hovering just over Ethan’s shoulder, eagerly watching the confrontation between the three of you. You forced yourself to look away and up at your ex.

“You don’t know anything,” you answered, very irritably. “Go away.”

Ethan’s eyes drifted over to Draco, and he had a wide smirk on his face. Draco, for his part, still looked calm, though you noted that he was sitting more stiffly than usual. “How does it feel having my sloppy seconds, Malfoy?” Ethan taunted.

You bit your lip, your eyes darting between the two very anxiously. Last time they had seen each other Draco had put his fist in Ethan’s face, and if it came to a brawl in public you weren’t sure how the Ministry would handle Draco’s punishment. Nor did you really want to find out.

Draco’s hand that was resting on the table curled into a fist, but his face still remained calm and when he spoke it was in his bored, signature drawl. “Quite good,” he said, and then his voice darkened a little. “Though I suggest you don’t talk about her like that.”

Ethan’s eyes glittered at you. “Found yourself another sugar daddy, eh, Y/N?” You heard some gasps and whispers coming from around the cafe, and though you wanted nothing more than to stand up and slap him across the face as hard as you possibly could, you remained seated and fixed him with a steely glare. You had just opened your mouth to say something biting and then suggest he leave when he continued, smiling even wider as looked over at Draco again, “Though Malfoy here has his own games, doesn’t he? Aren’t you also fucking that girl at the bar?” He glanced meaningfully at the reporter and then back to the two of you, smirking. “What, just having my girlfriend wasn’t enough for you, Malfoy?”

At that, Draco finally seemed to snap, and he sprang to his feet, the chair scraping back behind him and his fists clenched at his sides. You immediately followed suit, stepping forward between them, but you were turned away from Ethan now and only facing Draco with a deep sigh. “Don’t,” you said. He glanced down at you, looking both strained and positively furious. “ _Please_ ,” you pressed, pushing lightly on his chest, and he very slowly and reluctantly sat back down in his chair, his jaw clenched and his eyes flashing.

_Men_ , you thought to yourself with a grimace.

“Even for you that’s low,” you said to Ethan, turning to glare at him coldly. “She was killed just last weekend Ethan, _Merlin_.”

He blinked, and for a moment you thought you saw him pale. “What?”

“Did you not hear me?” You folded your arms.

Ethan seemed to collect himself with a thick swallow and then he hastily turned to the reporter, who was still watching the exchange with wide eyes, and he gestured between the two of you, shaking his head dramatically. “Can you believe my ex-girlfriend was fucking _him_ behind my back? That’s why we broke up, in fact.”

“That is _not_ true!” you cried out angrily, flushing, and looking with pleading eyes to the reporter. But he was already taking out a quill and parchment, an excited light in his eyes, and you felt your heart twist in your chest. He probably wouldn’t care what was true or false, not when it could look like a popular Quidditch player had been wronged. “He’s lying! We broke up because – ”

“She has a taste for Death Eater, apparently,” finished Ethan triumphantly, and the man began scribbling.

“No,” you growled fiercely, “I broke up with him because he’s a selfish arse, had women on the side, comes with the press, and he’s terrible in bed. Print _that_ in your stupid newspaper.”

Draco, who had been taking a drink of water with his hands shaking out of anger, suddenly choked. He hurriedly set it down, laughing and coughing at the same time and smacking his chest with his fist. Ethan’s glare flicked to him before fixing on you, and then he leaned down suddenly so that he was directly in your ear – words only meant for you. “One more word from you and I’ll talk about what happened that night at my flat,” he murmured, very menacingly. The reporter was busily writing away behind him, a feverish look on his face. Ethan’s voice was low and dangerous. “Oh, I don’t have concrete proof now, but do you think I need it? I can insist they use Veritaserum. So either the story prints where you play the slut, or they’re going to find out that dear Draco assaulted a beloved Quidditch player in his home. Can’t risk that, can you? Not with his background.”

“Get away from her,” you heard Draco snap, and when you looked over at him you saw that he seemed to be on the verge of getting to his feet again.

Ethan just straightened up and smirked down at the both of you again. “Anything else to say, Y/N?”

You hated how knowing his voice was, how smug. He had won, and he knew it. “No,” you hissed, narrowing your eyes at both him and the reporter. You knew Draco’s disbelieving gaze was on your face, wondering why you had relented so quickly, but you avoided his eyes.

“You two enjoy yourselves now,” said Ethan, shooting you one last sneer before turning to leave, his to-go cup in hand and the reporter trailing after him. You watched him rejoin the players at the bar, and then they made their way to a group of people outside, which included more reporters, Quidditch players, a man with a slightly bigger belly and a boyish face that you assumed was one of the coaches, and a group of giggling young women. You gritted your teeth and angrily watched them go before sinking back into your chair, feeling suddenly exhausted.

“What did he say to you?” Draco pressed.

“Don’t worry about it,” you mumbled, avoiding his eyes and taking a sip of your tea.

“Seeing as you backed down immediately, I _am_ kind of worried about it,” he replied, with a bit of a frown and watching you carefully over his tea.

“No need,” you said, finally looking up at him and smiling gently. “Really. Can we just forget about all of that? It’s not important. Please?”

Draco’s eyes flicked to the window again even though the Quidditch players was long gone, and it looked like he had to physically swallow his irritation. After a few long moments, he just nodded and leaned forward to take your hands. “There is something I wanted to talk to you about, actually,” he said. “I was thinking that I should go to Azkaban to visit my father. It’s been a while since I’ve done it, anyway, and I thought he might have a clue about who could be writing those letters.”

It wasn’t a bad idea, but a little burst of fear at the thought of him going off to Azkaban rendered you momentarily speechless. He seemed to see this on your face, for he said quickly, “My mother would come with me, and Potter or Granger would also come escort us. Both, if they can. And if you’re comfortable with it, maybe Daphne and Pansy can come stay with you at the Manor…”

“I can handle being alone for a while,” you told him stubbornly, but when he looked a little skeptical you sighed, accepting that maybe hanging out in that giant Manor alone _would_ mess with your mind a little. You didn’t want another incident like the one with the open door in the night. “But it certainly would be nice to have them there,” you finished, and he smiled.

“Good. So we can go home and call them on the Floo, and then my mother and I can head out…”

“Wait, today?” you asked, aghast.

“Yes,” he said, looking a little amused at your shock. “My mother was planning on leaving for Italy today, so it has to be if I’m to go with her.”

“Shouldn’t I go too?” you asked, rather desperately.

He hesitated. “I think it might be a good idea for you to stay home.”

“Because it might be dangerous?” you asked shrewdly.

“Not too dangerous,” he said quickly, when he saw the way you were looking at him. “But I do think it would be better for you to stay at home.”

“Draco…” You protested, liking this less and less the more you talked about it.

He took your hands again and squeezed them reassuringly. “Don’t worry, love,” he said gently. “I’ll be back in the evening. Most of the time will just be due to the Ministry going through paperwork and security checks before getting there anyway. Everything will be just fine.”

“I don’t like it,” you said flatly.

“I don’t much like leaving you behind either,” he said, leaning forward to kiss you. “But I really do think it would be better that way.”

“I’m not the one doing something potentially dangerous,” you grumbled, but your voice shook a little. “If something happens to you, Draco, I _swear_ – ”

“It won’t,” he emphasized. “Azkaban has plenty of security, and I know that Granger has been in charge of a lot of it. You know her. Probably annoyingly flawless. Really.” His voice and his smile were so certain that you relaxed a fraction, but not necessarily enough to feel good about it.

_It’s only an afternoon_ , you told yourself. _He’ll be with others._ _Hell, if he’s with Potter or Hermione, he’ll be fine. They always come out of everything, don’t they?_ _  
_

_It will all be fine._

* * *

Roughly an hour after you had returned from the cafe, you, Draco, Narcissa, Hermione Granger, Harry Potter, and Daphne and Pansy were congregated by the front door of Malfoy Manor.

You pulled Draco off to the side as Hermione chatted to the others about upcoming changes to Azkaban to make things better for the prisoners and began double checking to make sure that everyone had everything they needed.

“Promise me you’ll be careful,” you said. You felt tears in your eyes, which was stupid. You knew that. It wasn’t that you couldn’t be away from Draco. Under normal circumstances, this would obviously be nothing, but with the latest letter and all the stress for his safety, you were actually feeling a little nauseous. You couldn’t stop imagining something going wrong out at the wizarding prison. And it was so isolated, out there on a rock at sea…

“I promise,” he replied. “You too.” 

“My biggest problem will be keeping Pansy from hurling chess pieces at valuable Malfoy artifacts when she loses,” you joked quietly.

“I heard that,” said Pansy dryly from behind you.

Draco tilted your chin up and bringing your lips up to his. You molded against him and he weaved his hands through your hair and kissed you over and over and over, until you heard someone behind you (probably Pansy) pointedly clear their throat.

He broke away and said, rather raggedly, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you answered fiercely. “And I’ll see you this evening, okay?”

He nodded resolutely and took your hand, pulling you back over to the group, and Narcissa leaned forward to kiss both your cheeks. “Take care of yourself, dear,” she said earnestly. “I’ll be writing owls when I’m away, of course, and if there’s anything you need I’ll come right home.”

“Thank you,” you said gratefully. “You have fun in Italy, Narcissa.”

You gave Hermione and Harry Potter a grateful smile, too, and then Hermione had given you a hug and Draco had let go of your hand, and you were watching them troop outside. Draco gave you one last smile, the gigantic door closed, and then they were gone. For a long moment it was almost deathly silent as you struggled against your fear and panic and helplessness.

“It will all be fine, Y/N,” said Pansy briskly, coming forward to firmly take your arm and lead you quickly away to the living room. “Come on, let’s do something fun. I’ll paint your nails and we can play music, and before you know he’ll be back. I’ll show you things on my iPhone, too. That will pass the time _unbelievably_ fast, trust me.”

Pansy, apparently, had already had the time to set up a little area in the living room complete with pillows and nail polish and snacks and candles. You weren’t quite sure when she had done it, but it _was_ Pansy, after all, and you just gave her a smile and sank onto one of the pillows on the floor and held out your hands while she decided which color to give you.

The next hour and a half was actually pleasant, despite the nagging feeling that persisted about Draco. Daphne and Pansy were good at distracting you, though, and the time passed faster than you could ever have imagined.

You and Daphne were just playing a rather intense game of chess with Pansy giving scathing and hilarious commentary, however, when the flames roared to life in the fireplace and Theo ducked out.

Instantly, it was obvious something was wrong by the way his face was pale twisted in anguish. His eyes, too, were positively frantic.

Pansy whirled at the sound of flames, fingers twitching to her wand but relaxing when she saw that it was Theo standing there, and you and Daphne sprang to your feet, staring at him. The fear that overcame you was so powerful that your legs felt suddenly weak, and you couldn’t breathe.

Something had happened. You could see it on Theo’s face. 

Something had happened, and Draco was gone…

“St. Mungo’s,” ordered Theo hoarsely. “Now.”

* * *

The man – his most trusted partner for years – stood across from him, breathing hard. His blue eyes had flashed with a sudden fear, but he had masked it quickly.

“How dare you disarm me when my back is turned?” the man spat furiously, though concern flickered in his eyes when he glanced at the thing across the room, clearly waiting on instructions and making him shiver. “Give me back my wand and duel me properly! You fucking _coward_.”

The blonde just smiled. “I’m not quite so stupid as that.”

“You said you only cared about having the gold and the girls when we came to power!” the man sputtered, eyeing the blonde’s wand very warily and glancing again at the cloaked thing hovering near the window.

The blonde shrugged. “I lied.” He grinned at the look of outrage on the other man’s face. “Oh, the gold and the girls are going to be nice – yes, of course. It wasn’t a _full_ lie. But I realized long ago that the only way to keep up a steady stream of those was _real_ power, anyway. And more importantly, I’ve spent far too long at the mercy of others. The Purebloods and their money. The Ministry and their laws. It’s time everyone else was at mine.”

“You don’t have to do this,” said the man, and though he was trying to sound calm the panic was beginning to warp his voice. “I’ve only ever helped you. You and I, we can still rule together. Like we planned.”

For the first time, the cool demeanor of the blonde was broken and his face twisted in a furious grimace, making him look quite demented. “You didn’t come to my aid when I was found by _them_. When they tortured me!”

“I didn’t know!”

“There were rumors, my friend,” said the blonde, his eyes icing over as he surveyed the man across from him with a hard look. “And besides, at this point I owe you far too much gold, don’t I? It’s far simpler to just not have to repay you.” He gave him a sudden grin. “No hard feelings, I hope.”

The man opened his mouth, but before he could protest or argue, the blonde had nodded at the creature and it swept forward, drawing long, rattling breaths.

“Sorry, old friend,” murmured the blonde, watching intently as the rotting hands took hold of the man’s chin and yanked it upward, ignoring his screams and struggles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> language, violence, sexual allusions, testosterone & shameless Drama


	19. Seventeen, Part Two.

“ _Who_?” Daphne asked Theo, her voice unnaturally high-pitched. 

You were very glad she had asked. You couldn’t speak. You were quite sure all the blood had drained from your face.

_There will be another death for this one, Y/N…_

“Blaise,” answered Theo.

“Is he – ” began Pansy.

“He’s going to live,” said Theo, and this time you swayed a little as the relief washed over you in waves. “He was attacked, and he’s a little banged up, but alive. I don’t know exactly what happened, though, so we need to get there and see him so we can find out. Also, I can’t reach his mother. I couldn’t get through the Floo, even just to talk, and I don’t think she’s home. I owled her, but…”

“She was leaving for Italy today,” said Daphne, very faintly. “She’s probably out getting some last minute things, or something…”

“Draco,” you choked out finally. “Should we owl him too?”

“It will take too long, with him all the way out at Azkaban,” said Pansy. “It would be pointless. Leave him a note here and let him know to meet us over at St. Mungo’s.”

Mechanically, you began to move to the living room table to find some quill and parchment and scribble out a note. You hoped it made sense. Your brain wasn’t functioning properly at the moment, and your fingers were stiff and uncooperative.

Daphne and Pansy were clutching at each other, and Theo rushed forward to take your arm when you had left the note on the table, where you knew Draco would see it as soon as he came home. The walk across the grounds was quick and silent. Everyone seemed to be in a state of shock, and indeed, going back to St. Mungo’s already to visit one of your own felt surreal.

The Welcome Witch seemed to be expecting you all when you arrived. She was looking anything but bored as you all strode purposefully up to her desk, and without anyone having to ask she just said quickly, “Mr. Zabini is in Room 435.”

Theo and Pansy just gave her curt nods and you and Daphne gave her faint smiles before you were all making your way quickly through the hallway, a route up to the fourth floor – Spell Damage – which was, unfortunately, very familiar because you had taken it mere weeks before to visit Daphne and Draco. 

Your brain was still so foggy as you tried to process what was happening. Clearly, the writer of the note had struck. By some happy miracle, it seemed that it hadn’t been a death as promised, and it was this little flare of hope and triumph that was keeping you from another breakdown. Still, you were shaking uncontrollably, and you desperately wished Draco was here. A horrible part of you wondered if this was another distraction, if maybe the writer of the note had gotten Blaise and then would strike Draco too while you were all here…

Blaise somehow still looked like casual perfection, even in a hospital bed. 

He was lying back against the pillows and flipping idly through a magazine when the group came rushing in, with a Healer by his bedside waving a wand, seemingly checking his vitals.

“Ah,” he said, with a little grin. “I wondered when you all would finally show up.”

“Oh, shut up, Blaise,” Theo sighed, striding forward, and you all followed him to the side of the bed. Up here, up close, you could see that Blaise’s face was contorted in more pain than it appeared at first glance, and that his eyes were bloodshot and tired. You took his hand in yours.

“What happened?” Pansy pressed him. “Tell us everything.”

Blaise’s dark eyes flashed. “The motherfucker attacked me in my own home, that’s what happened. I was in the library, actually. Getting a book to read. Next thing I know I’m hearing something, like a shuffling sound. And I just got this…feeling, you know? Like someone was behind me. And when I heard faint footsteps, I didn’t even think. Just dove to the side on instinct. Missed the Killing Curse by inches.” His expression got even more sour. “ _And_ that arsehole ruined my favorite section, too. Blasted all the shelves and books on them to pieces.”

“Probably waited for you to be alone,” Daphne mused, as she stared at Blaise with wide, horrified eyes. “So they wouldn’t have to duel both you and your mother.”

“We certainly dueled,” said Blaise, shifting slightly on the bed and wincing as he did so. “He wasn’t expecting a duel, I think – was expecting to kill me with my back turned – but he got one.” He barred his teeth suddenly. “A good one, too, though I unfortunately didn’t get him good enough to catch him or keep him there. I was only just able to get to the fireplace and get out after he got me in the chest with something that made me feel like I was…full of lead, or something. And then he hit me with another spell, just as I was going through the Floo…”

“What spell?” you whispered. “And what did he look like?”

Blaise winced. “He had a cloak and mask on. But I know it was a man by his laugh. As for the spell…” He glanced at the Healer in the room, who was still waving a wand over Blaise.

She glanced at the four of you with apologetic eyes. “We’re unsure about the exact spell, but it seems that Mr. Zabini has temporarily lost the use of his legs.”

You gripped Blaise’s hand tighter, and Daphne covered her mouth with her hand and looked horrified. Theo’s eyes got even more frantic, and Pansy looked suddenly furious and began to pace the room in agitation. 

“Oh, Blaise,” you whispered, tears sparkling in your eyes at the same time as a terrible anger moved in your chest. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s all fine,” said Blaise cheerfully, but you detected something under the surface in his eyes. “Like she said, it isn’t permanent. They think a couple of months at most.”

“Fuck,” Theo swore suddenly.

“At least you’ll be safe here,” you encouraged, squeezing Blaise’s hand.

“Are we safe anywhere?” asked Pansy very grimly, turning to look at you all from across the room. “Doesn’t really seem like it, does it? Not even in our homes.”

“About that,” said Blaise, “The Ministry will no doubt be here in a little while – after they are done poking around in my house for clues, that is – and when they get here I’m sure they’ll want a chat with you all, because they aren’t getting one with me. I am most certainly not in the mood.”

“We’ll handle it,” said Theo, nodding at Blaise resolutely.

“They need to know about the wards if they don’t already,” said Blaise, giving you all a pointed look. At this, everyone else’s faces suddenly turned a slight ashen color and their expressions became suddenly even more horrified, and this caused you to speak up in a tremulous voice.

“What do you mean, the wards?”

Daphne took your other hand. “I forgot that you haven’t lived in a Pureblood home for some time, and certainly not as an adult,” she said gently. “The Pureblood mansions are based on very old, stringent, and powerful blood magic, Y/N. Remember Draco at the gates? Only people with the same blood or that the families specify are allowed into the home. It extends to the Floo as well.”

“Which means,” Blaise finished roughly, his dark eyes flashing again, “That it was not only someone I knew that was either the person under that cloak or letting them in, but also…”

“Someone you trust completely,” you finished in a whisper, your face now also draining of color. The implications of this sunk in and a heavy silence filled the room, with all of you giving each other both terrified and distinctly awkward glances. 

No one wanted to be suspicious of anyone else that would normally be allowed to come into their home. But the list of people that had been allowed into the Pureblood mansions wasn’t very long, and somehow the blood wards at Blaise’s had been beaten, so that must mean…

“Well,” said Daphne, very shakily. “When the Ministry gets here they’ll probably want a list of everyone we have allowed in each of our homes. Can we think of anyone that has been allowed in that isn’t part of our family or friend group?”

“Amanda,” Theo said immediately. “Into Malfoy Manor.”

You frowned. “ _Amanda_? But he killed her!”

“Yeah, that’s insane,” said Blaise, shaking his head. “That bartender? No way. She was the one of the most naive people on the planet. And she was _always_ smiling.”

“It’s _more_ insane to think one of us is in on it,” said Pansy brusquely. “Maybe she was going to rat him out and come clean. Maybe he killed her because of that.”

“No one thinks it was actually one of us,” said Daphne to Pansy gently. “And if she _was_ going to rat him out, how would he have even found out? I don’t know, I also have a hard time believing it of her.”

“I certainly don’t believe it,” you said, shaking your head. “All the late nights I spent with her alone at that bar? She could have hurt me anytime she wanted. I knew her best – ”

“One could argue Draco knew her best,” said Theo, wiggling his eyebrows. and you shot him a glare. “Er – sorry,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “Bad joke.”

“I’d say so,” you said stiffly. “But that’s also a good point. She spent a lot of time alone with him, too, and he was never hurt or anything. And besides, you all didn’t hear her talking at the bar as much as I did! The things she did and said…there’s just no way. She was _gentle_. When there was a spider she refused to kill it and took it outside, for fuck’s sake…”

“It could have been an act,” said Theo. “She was Muggleborn. Who else would we let into our homes that would have any motivation to go after Purebloods?”

“This isn’t about Purebloods,” you argued. “Not really. They’re also attacking Muggles. It’s all a cover. They’re just trying to turn us all against each other, and you’re doing _exactly_ that, Theo…”

“I’m just brainstorming!” he said irritably.

“Er,” said Daphne very tentatively, shooting you an apologetic look. “Is it possible that Draco had someone else over in that time as well?”

“No,” you said, shaking your head.

“You asked him?” Pansy pressed shrewdly.

“Well no,” you admitted. “But it came up in the Veritaserum investigation. He wasn’t seeing anyone else but Amanda, so…” It was quiet for a long moment as you all pondered everything, and then a sudden thought occurred to you. “Um…Blaise? Doesn’t your mother have…well, you know…”

“Many male admirers?” Blaise was smirking. “Yes. But she never brings them to our place. She always goes to theirs. After all, how else would she gauge how much money they have?”

Pansy snorted, and you smiled a little. “That’s true,” you said, but then you frowned, because you really didn’t have any other options.

_Were Pansy and Theo right about Amanda? You really, really didn’t want to believe it of her, and it didn’t seem likely, but you supposed anything was possible…and like Pansy, you would rather think it had been her than any one of your friends…_

“Does Narcissa have friends over?” Daphne suggested.

“She must,” you mused. “We can ask her and Draco when they get back.”

“There _are_ others that can get into our homes,” said Blaise suddenly, giving you all a significant look. “They did tons of raids after the war…”

“The Ministry?” Daphne gasped. “But that would mean…”

“It’s corrupt,” finished Pansy. “But what’s new, really?”

“Merlin,” you whispered, pinching the bridge of your nose. “I – I need to use the loo…”

Really, it wasn’t that pressing, but you needed a few moments alone. 

All of this conversation was painful, and then the added stress of Blaise being attacked, and Draco being gone…it was almost too much, and you just wanted a few seconds to yourself to sort out your head.

St. Mungo’s was very quiet and empty even at this time of the afternoon, and you only passed one person in the hall on the way to the washroom.

_It’s all fine_ , you told yourself, unable to shake the feeling that you were being watched. You even glanced over your shoulder, but there was still no one in the hallway. _You’re safe. It’s just residual adrenaline from_ _everything_ _. Draco is_ _fine_ _. He’s_ _going to be_ _okay, and_ _so will_ _Blaise.._ _._

You were washing your face very slowly, with shaking hands, to delay the moment where you had to return to the hospital room and continue the unpleasant discussion, when you heard the footsteps and saw the slight movement in the mirror. You whirled suddenly and pulled out your wand, but you were only faced with Draco, who was standing in the doorway and smiling his crooked smile at you.

Your legs nearly gave out in relief. “ _Draco_ ,” you whimpered, thrusting your wand back into your pocket and practically running across the room to launch yourself in his arms. “Oh Draco, you’re back, you’re _early_ , I’m so _relieved_ …”

“Yes. I’m here, my love,” he murmured, placing his hands on your hips and pulling you close to him. You breathed in the scent of him on his chest, closed your eyes at his warmth, and sighed, trying very, very hard not to cry.

“I was so worried about you,” you mumbled, clinging tighter to him.

“Today was stressful,” he agreed, leaning down and placing a few slow, soft kisses on your neck. “And I missed you already.” He moved his lips to your mouth, and the kiss he gave you was more passionate than you had been expecting.

But you responded with equal fervor, trying to pour your relief upon seeing him again into the movements of your mouth on his. “Don’t do this to me again,” you gasped, in between kisses. “Please, Draco, until this is all over…I don’t think I can take the bloody stress…”

“I promise,” he mumbled, kissing you harder and making you stagger backward until you were at the sink again. “I just thought it would help to talk to my father…”

You pulled away and looked up at him. “What did he say?”

“Nothing of substance,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Didn’t have a clue.”

“Oh.” You frowned. “But the visit was okay?”

“Mmm.” He leaned down again to kiss you deeply again, sliding his tongue along your bottom lip, running his hands up along your sides.

“Draco,” you panted breathlessly, a few minutes after he had flicked his wand to close and lock the door so you could share some heated reunion kissing. “We really should be getting back to the others now, don’t you think…”

At this he paused, and pulled back to look momentarily into your face.

That was when you saw something flash in his eyes that frightened you.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he drawled, suddenly letting a slow, cruel smile spread over his handsome face. “You aren’t going anywhere until I want you to.”

Panic clogged your chest, and though you wanted to scream, you couldn’t.

Before you could say or do anything, both of Draco’s hands had shot up to your throat and wrapped firmly around it, squeezing hard on your windpipe and blocking the air flow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> violence, injuries, language, sexual themes....a nasty surprise ;)


	20. Eighteen.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings in notes :)

The panic overtook your entire body, all of your senses, as black began to creep into the edges of your vision and you writhed and struggled, gasping for air that wouldn’t come.

His thumbs were pressed so roughly, so painfully into your throat. The black was coming faster and faster, and soon, you knew, you would no longer be conscious. To add to it all, his face was inches from yours, his nose touching the tip of yours as he gazed into your face growing steadily purple with a gleam in his eyes and a horrible smile twisting his features.

“Something you want to say?” he taunted, and then he laughed quietly, pressing his body against yours more tightly and jamming you harder against the counter. Your hands clawed at his forearms as you choked and you tried desperately to twist your body, trying to get him to release you, but that just made him laugh harder. Tears streaming down your cheeks, you did one last thing before you knew that you would lose consciousness. You drove your knee upward, roughly.

It did minimal damage, but it was enough.

It was enough because he doubled over ever so slightly, grunting out in pain as your kneecap collided with his stomach, and this caused his grip on your throat to loosen ever so slightly. And despite being dizzy and disoriented due to lack of oxygen and still unable to really _breathe_ , you were able to draw in one small, shuddering breath and then jab your fingers out like lightning in the split second he was off guard, poking him right in his eyes.

He let out a hiss of pain, automatically taking one hand to clutch at himself, and you used this opportunity to launch your knee upward again, aiming lower than his stomach this time.

You knew you had hit your target by the way he yelped in pain and bent slightly, and by the way his grip loosened even more around your neck. You were able to get another breath in, wrench slightly to the side, and try with your knee again. Despite the pain he was clearly in, he was quick, and he caught your thigh on the way up this time, yanking it up and pulling hard. You flew up and backward, and when you landed on your back on the stone ground of the bathroom it depleted your very limited air source. Wheezing and massaging desperately at your neck as you lay there on the ground, you only saw the turning movement and the slide of his hand to his pocket before your instincts somehow kicked in, and you rolled to the side as quickly as you could, narrowly avoiding the spell he shot at you. It hit the ground instead, and red sparks flew around the bathroom.

As you rolled you reached for your own wand, but you found that you couldn’t speak to form the spell – you wondered briefly if he had done permanent damage to your windpipe or vocal chords – and it was all you could do to non-verbally block the next spell he sent at you. It had been a colorless spell, but it reverberated like a gong when it hit your invisible shield.

“You know how to play, don’t you?” he growled, smiling wickedly before he shot another spell at you with an easy flick of his wand, advancing toward you.

You blocked it with difficulty, still gasping horribly for air. You tried to speak, but the only thing that came out was a terrible rasping sound, which made him laugh cruelly. Desperately, you used your feet for leverage to push back against the wall and scramble to your feet, holding your wand steady. For a moment, you both just stood there, wands pointed at each other’s chests.

“This bathroom is silenced,” he said softly, a teasing smile on his lips. “No one will hear any of this. We can be as loud as we please and no one will come for help. The only way out of this is if you beat me, and that’s not going to happen, sweetheart.” Terrible fury rose up in you. The next nonverbal spell you sent at him was vicious, and even he looked surprised that when he blocked it he had to take a physical step back.

“I’m impressed,” he hissed, but his face was twisted in anger now, and a shadow flitted in his eyes.

It was incredibly difficult to duel in such a small space, when you were unable to speak the words for the spells, and when you were still fighting for air and your neck was in so much pain. There wasn’t much room to hop to the side whenever he shot something at you, and more than once he rushed you, hoping to disarm you with his body, and you had to be extremely quick in shooting a spell at him to deter him. Even then, you never were able to hit him with anything. He was always able to block it, and you were both shooting things at each other with alarming, dizzying speed, and even though it felt like hours it was probably all happening in less than one minute –

And then one of your spells hit their mark.

It hit him in the knee, only enough to disable him for a few seconds, but you took the very limited opportunity to flick the door to the bathroom open and sprint toward it, aiming a blocking spell over your shoulder so that whatever came whistling at you from behind wouldn’t hit you as you ran away. With another flick of your wand you closed the bathroom door, which you knew would only buy you a few more precious seconds, but that was all you needed.

Staying and fighting in that small room was too risky. 

The only option you had was to run.

And so that was exactly what you did. You sprinted down the hallway as fast as you could without looking back once, heart pounding and your veins rushing with adrenaline – you didn’t even want to think about what had just happened too deeply, you couldn’t, not yet, and you were still wheezing with the effort of getting air and there were tears on your face at the pain in your throat…

You came running into Blaise’s room like a madwoman, eyes lit with insanity and wand out, and you saw the others turn quickly and take in your appearance. What a strange sight you must be – having sprinted back from the bathroom with your wand out, completely frantic. You skidded to a stop, trying to control your panicked chokes, and immediately your friends swept forward toward you, except Blaise, who could only watch with concern from the hospital bed.

“Y/N!” screeched Daphne, gripping your arms tightly and staring at your face. Pansy was immediately at her side too, also gazing at you, and you saw her dark eyes flicker with horror when they ranged over the way you were clutching your neck and trying to breathe properly.

“Get a Healer,” you heard Pansy say to Theo, who immediately nodded and swept from the room.

You clawed desperately at your throat, still wheezing and chest heaving, trying to tell them what had happened. But you couldn’t get the words out, your voice didn’t function, and the last thing you saw before being pulled into Daphne’s embrace was the panic on her face. “Just breathe,” she murmured. “A Healer will be here soon, so just breathe, honey, relax…”

You couldn’t relax either. 

Tears were beginning to burn in your eyes, and the images of Draco’s face twisted in that horrible smile or the look of cruelty on his features paired with the terrible light in his eyes wouldn’t leave your mind. Soon enough you had begun to sob, which only made the breathing more difficult, and you heard Blaise say, “Where’s Draco? Did he find you?”

At that you only began to cry harder and gestured weakly to the wall in the direction of the bathroom. 

“Is he hurt, Y/N? Did something happen to him?” Pansy asked you urgently.

You shook your head no into Daphne’s shoulder, and you would have let out a little wail of anguish had your voice been working. As it was, you only could let out a horrible, strangled sort of rasping sound and then point at your throat frantically, trying to indicate that it had been _him_ , _he_ had done this to you after meeting you in the bathroom…

“No,” whispered Daphne, whose eyes had flooded with comprehension even though Blaise and Pansy still looked momentarily confused before their eyes widened as well.

“It had to be one of us,” said Pansy, who looked suddenly very sick, and finally saying the one thing that no one else had wanted to say that day. “One of us had to help get past Blaise’s wards. Of course it would be because he’s bewitched…”

You nodded furiously into Daphne’s shoulders – the alternative was far too shattering to consider – and she just gripped you tighter.

“Did you Stun him, Y/N?” Daphne pressed frantically.

You shook your head again, face twisting in anguish, but before they could press for more answers Theo had returned with a Healer, a young woman who swept over to you and looked positively disturbed. “What’s happened?” she asked, her gaze sweeping around them all. She gestured at Theo. “He only said that she came back from the bathroom like this…we’ve sent people to check it…”

“She was attacked,” said Daphne, who sounded extraordinarily calm despite everything, though her voice had a little waver. “Her throat…”

Pansy was currently gripping the edges of the table next to Blaise’s night stand, slightly hunched over and seemingly trying to compose herself, while Blaise reached over to hold her arm and was murmuring something very quietly.

The Healer very gently removed your hands from your neck and winced. “Lie down, dear, relax,” she said, gesturing to the bed. “This is quite serious.” She was waving her wand over you once as she said it, and instantly, you felt the air flow get better. Although you still wheezed when you tried to speak, your breathing finally began to ease and slow. “If we hurry we can eliminate any permanent damage to the vocal chords…come on then, lie down…”

* * *

The blonde strode into the locker room with purpose.

He had waited for the rest of the team to file out, each of them giving him friendly nods and waves as they did so, and then walked in, leaned against a locker, and spoke to his back. “Seeing as you’re here and not already off gallivanting with some bimbo, I assume that you got my note to wait for me here?”

Ethan turned immediately at the sound of his voice. Something was different though. The blonde could see it in the Quidditch player’s eyes and on his facial features. Their relationship was complicated, and though the blonde was in full control there had always been a clear willingness to go along with what he was told and even a grudging admiration on Ethan’s side.

Now the blonde saw more unease than usual on Ethan’s face, and even distrust.

Curious.

But the blonde saw how he tried to mask it. “Yes,” said Ethan, puffing out his chest a little. “Were you here to see the game?”

“Not today,” said the blonde. “I was saying hello to your ex-girlfriend, actually.”

“What?” Ethan looked a little disconcerted. “Y/N? Why?”

“Keeping my promise to you,” he answered, grinning.

Ethan’s eyes widened, and the blonde carefully observed the emotions flickering in his eyes. It seemed like he was struggling with words. “Something you want to say?” the blonde finally asked, rolling his eyes. “Spit it out, boy.”

“Did you kill that bartender?” blurted Ethan, looking rather distressed. “They told me that she had been killed and – did you – I never wanted…”

The blonde rolled his eyes again. “You can be so delightfully cruel about petty things, but when it comes to a necessary silencing that you don’t even have to take part in, you suddenly have an issue?”

“What do you mean a necessary silencing?” asked Ethan angrily. “I did exactly what you told me, I kept my part of the deal! I made sure she was under the Imperious Curse for you.”

“She was beginning to fight it off, you half-wit, or did you not notice?” said the blonde. “Either she was smarter than she looked or your Imperious Curse was embarrassingly weak.”

“It’s not like I wanted to cast it anyway!” retorted Ethan.

“It’s irrelevant what you want,” said the blonde. “As I told you before, our “deals” are an illusion, Ethan. You should feel grateful I’m even doing something for your side at all. Really, it’s kind enough of me that I don’t just go to the authorities about that hooker in Dublin. Remember?”

Ethan’s teeth were gritted together in fury, and there was a flash of horror and regret in his eyes before he swallowed hard. “How could I forget with your constant reminders? I didn’t _mean_ to, I _told_ you that – it just went too far with the breath play – ” He stopped, looking panicked.

“If you feel confident that the Ministry will accept that answer, then by all means don’t do what I have to say. Of course, I could also just kill you.” The blonde smiled when Ethan blanched.

“You wouldn’t,” said Ethan, voice shaking.

“I would,” he said, shrugging. “You think I have fondness for you? I do not.”

Ethan just stared at him for a long moment before shaking himself a little. “What did you say to Y/N? How are you planning on ruining Malfoy?”

“Oh, we didn’t talk much,” said the blonde lightly, and then he smiled wider. “And that’s irrelevant. I’ll have Y/N for you by the end, isn’t that what you wanted? Though of course, I may ask kindly every once in a while that you share.” He smirked. “She _did_ feel nice against me.”

Ethan, the blonde was pleased to see, was shaking with fury, but he was clearly too afraid to argue or say anything to contradict him. _Right where I want you_ , thought the blonde, celebrating inwardly. _I’m in control. I’m in control, me, I am…_

“I thought you had your woman prize already,” said Ethan finally, in a hard voice.

“Oh, well yes – she was my great love when I was younger, of course. I can take care of her husband soon enough, and she can be completely mine. But who says I must only have one?” And then the blonde smirked at the look of horror on Ethan’s face, and the Quidditch player rather looked as though he wanted to say something, but the blonde spoke over him. “Tread carefully,” he warned. “Serve me well – _better_ – and I won’t make you regret your entire existence, boy.”

And with that he turned and left, still relishing the look of resignation and fear on the other man’s face.

* * *

The others spent the next hour or so arguing about Amanda.

Or throwing out other theories.

Worrying about Draco. Wondering if he was cursed or if the real Draco was prisoner somewhere else.

You, of course, couldn’t participate. The Healers had told you that you would regain the ability to speak. It may take a day or two. Perhaps longer.

They advised you not to talk, not to strain, and to try as best you could not to laugh or cry.

The first one would be easy. The second one was impossible.

Even if you could have participated in the discussion, you didn’t want to.

All you could do was sit, staring at the wall and not looking at anyone, with a neck that was covered in harsh black and purple fingerprints, and with a steady flow of tears running down your face.

There were too many things to process.

First there was the whole issue of having a violent fight with your boyfriend – or the image of him – that had almost left you with permanent damage. You couldn’t stop seeing him raise his wand at you, or the terrible, cruel, taunting expression on his face as he choked you or dueled with you.

Then, of course, was the problem that you didn’t know what was happening with Draco.

It wasn’t possible that it had really been him, was it? You had known Draco for years. You had trusted him completely and absolutely. You didn’t want to doubt him. You refused to. The knowledge that it had been him all along would destroy you.

If he had been bewitched, how long had he been so? _What had been real, and what had been fake?_ The very thought that it hadn’t _really_ been Draco anytime before today made you sick. You had, in fact, thrown up once when the horrifying thought had crossed your mind about all the times you and Draco had been intimate together. _Had it actually been him?_

You had leaned right over and thrown up in the garbage can, to the shock of your friends, and it had burned your neck so badly coming out that you began wheeze-sobbing even harder, and Daphne had to quickly call for a Healer.

So where was he now? _Where was he now?_ Was the real Draco safe?

The Healers kept telling you to stop crying. You just continued staring blankly at the opposite wall and went on crying anyway. Daphne’s hand never left yours, and every once in a while she would murmur soothing comfort to you, but you didn’t acknowledge her either.

At some point Esmeralda, Blaise’s mother, swept in. As always, any room that she was in became dominated by her presence and unnatural beauty, and some time after she had arrived and checked on her son she came over to your bed to squeeze your hand and kindly wish you her best.

Theo spoke up and said, “Ms. Zabini? Have you heard from Narcissa?”

“I had planned on meeting Narcissa at customs, at the Ministry,” she said. “I left a message for her when she arrives, telling her to come here instead.”

“So they hadn’t returned from Azkaban yet?” pressed Blaise, frowning.

“No, not yet,” said Esmeralda. “But they should be back soon, shouldn’t they? It’s nearing evening, and that was when she said she would return…”

This information sent you on another spiral of panic and helplessness, and the wheezing got so bad that you were clutching at your throat again and a Healer had to be summoned to the room yet again. She sighed when she performed some spells on you and said, “I’ll get you some Calming Concoction…all of this is not going to help your throat heal…”

After they had given it to you, you expected to relax immediately. You didn’t, though, and Pansy came over and sat on your bed with a magazine, opening it and trying to talk to you about something inside. You snatched it out of her hands and hurled it away, glaring at her, and everyone in the room stared at you in complete shock, but you didn’t care.

Eighteen minutes later, four people walked in the room: Harry, Hermione, Narcissa, and…

_Draco_.

You gasped involuntarily at seeing the familiar features, though of course it was, as always, more like a wheeze, and started thrashing around in a sort of blind panic on the hospital bed. Daphne was desperately trying to hold you still from your escape (though, of course, you weren’t quite sure where you planned on going, as your adversary was in the doorway). The glint in his gray eyes and the cruel smile from earlier still hadn’t left you. Your brain wasn’t getting enough oxygen and the trauma of it all was causing panic to clench every muscle in your body and your vision to blur, so you didn’t see his facial expression. You didn’t see the flash of bewilderment, and then horror at seeing you in a hospital bed, and when he rushed forward to examine you, desperately saying your name and his hands reaching out, all you could see were those pale hands reaching for your throat again.

He didn’t get far. As one, Theo, Daphne, and Pansy drew their wands at him and pointed them at his chest, looking both incredibly stern and horrified at what they were doing. Draco stopped immediately, his hands up in surrender and his eyes flickering with more confusion.

“What are you doing?” Narcissa cried out. “ _Why are you pointing your wands at my son_?”

She had drawn hers as well, and you began to wheeze-sob again. Blaise and Esmeralda were watching the entire thing with wide eyes from the other bed, and Harry and Hermione were standing in the doorway, frozen, but with their fingers inching toward their pockets.

“What’s happened?” pressed Hermione Granger urgently, looking around carefully.

“ _How did she get hurt_?” Draco asked furiously. “I don’t know what’s going on, but you three best get the _fuck_ out of my way immediately – ”

You desperately shook your head and pulled the sheets up to your neck, trying as hard as you could to get regular air flow to your wind pipes but unable to do so in your fear. You felt a sudden pang of shame when you saw Draco’s eyes flash with pain at the way you were looking at him, clearly not wanting him closer, but you still couldn’t forget that twisted smile.

“Prove that it’s you!” screamed Pansy frantically. “Prove it, Draco!”

Draco’s face twisted in utter outrage, and he opened his mouth to reply, but Harry Potter spoke up quickly. “He was with us the entire time at Azkaban. He was never out of our sight.”

Hermione’s eyes flooded with comprehension. “There was another Draco Malfoy here, wasn’t there?” She looked to you over in the bed, and you nodded slowly, still watching them all very warily. Theo, Daphne, and Pansy glanced at each other before their eyes flicked to Draco again, but they still didn’t lower their wands.

“We thought he had been Imperiused,” said Theo slowly.

“No,” said Hermione. “He was with us, so it was someone using Polyjuice Potion.”

You had a horrible idea that you knew who that _someone_ was. While this information was beginning to make sense, you couldn’t quite relax. The images from the bathroom were still fresh, and so when Draco growled, “Then will you _please_ stop pointing your wands at me and let me get a closer look at my girlfriend?” you still yanked the sheets tighter to you, shaking.

Draco’s face flashed again. “What happened?” he called out to you, very softly.

“Seeing as she can’t speak, we don’t know much information either,” said Pansy brusquely. “But essentially, she was attacked by your doppelgänger.”

Draco closed his eyes for a moment and swayed slightly, and Narcissa slowly lowered her wand, biting her lip. Daphne, Pansy, and Theo lowered their wands as well, and Hermione spoke up next. “Y/N still seems to be afraid of you,” she said calmly. “And – ”

“Yeah, no _shit_ , Granger!” Draco said loudly, rounding on her with a glare. “When was it, exactly, do you think that I missed the obvious? When the sight of me sent her spiraling? Or, perhaps, when she didn’t want me near her?” His voice was shaking.

This made you feel suddenly so wretched that you tried to speak, but only a terrible rasping sort of sound came out. This seemed to alarm him so much that he stepped forward automatically, his face suddenly a mask of concern, but the other three brandished their wands at him and he stopped in his tracks, chest heaving and squeezing his eyes shut again.

“How about this,” said Hermione, still calm as ever and with a placating, soothing tone in her voice that only made Draco narrow his eyes at her. “Say something to Y/N that lets her know it’s really you. Obviously the trauma of being attacked by your likeness – ”

“Yeah, I get it, Granger,” he snapped, but then he turned to look at you again and his eyes flickered. You just stared at him, taking slow, steadying breaths and watching him very carefully. Things were starting to make sense. Draco hadn’t attacked you. It would take some time, maybe, to get the images out of your head, but this was Draco, _your_ Draco, and it always had been.

“May I come over there?” he asked slowly. “I want to come talk to just you, love. Look, I’ll give them my wand, see?” He pulled it out of his pocket and handed it to Pansy and then glanced at you again, a reassuring look on his face.

You just nodded, even though it wasn’t necessarily the wand that bothered you the most. It was those pale fingers around your throat. But your heart rate had begun to slow and the panic was fading, and especially with everyone else here as backup, you were beginning to feel better already. Draco came forward immediately at your confirmation, though you noted that he was walking much slower than usual, and he had a cautious air about him when he sat on the edge of the hospital bed.

You saw his face contort when he saw your neck, but he masked it quickly in favor of giving you a smile. His eyes were _your_ Draco’s eyes again, the melting iron, and this, already, was making you relax even more.

Very tentatively, he took your hands in his. And then he leaned forward into your ear – pausing when he felt you stiffen at his proximity, but slowly continuing when you didn’t panic further – and murmured quietly, “Remember the night your parents disowned you and left? And you came over to the Manor, and broke a bunch of my things with accidental magic?” You just nodded, and he continued after a quiet little sigh. “Remember what you said to me, when I suggested you come and live with us? You got all offended, remember? You said ‘ _Draco Malfoy, I already found a job and I’ll find a flat within the week! I can take care of it_!’ Merlin, you’re so bloody stubborn.”

He leaned back to look at you, his eyes shining with mirth when you rolled your eyes at him, relaxing even more. He was still speaking very, very quietly, so the others couldn’t hear. “I was both irritated and impressed, you know. You had found something in mere hours. But it always drove me mad that you wouldn’t let me help you.” He squeezed your hands and gave you a breathtaking smile. “But I do love your stubbornness, if I’m being honest.”

He squeezed your hand, and you felt a few tears slip from your eyes, but you still felt calmer, even with him this close.

“Are we okay?” asked Hermione cautiously, and you both glanced over at her before Draco’s eyes moved to yours, silently asking confirmation. You examined his features for a long moment before nodding, and you saw his body slump ever so slightly in a relief.

“When can she speak again?” Draco asked the others, a little hoarsely.

“The Healer said a day or two,” said Pansy.

“Permanent damage?” he pressed, his grip on your hand tightening.

“No,” said Daphne gently. “Just needs to rest a little and drink a potion. She can go home today.”

You wheezed a little at that, clutching the sheets tighter, and threw Draco a fearful look. Again, you saw how his eyes flickered, but Daphne spoke up quickly to say, “And – er – I think we would both feel more safe staying at the Manor for a few days now considering everything, right Pansy? If that’s all right with you, Draco and Narcissa?”

Narcissa looked to her son, who nodded. “Of course,” he said, but his voice was hollow. He knew, just like you knew, why Daphne was really offering to come and stay at the Manor. You threw him a tentative and guilty glance, but his eyes were trained on the floor.

* * *

It took some time to make the arrangements and go home from the hospital, not to mention explain all over again to Draco and Narcissa what had happened to Blaise.

Esmeralda and Narcissa, of course, postponed their trip, and Esmeralda was to stay with her son while the others were to return to Malfoy Manor for the evening, with promises to come visit Blaise again the next day.

Draco was not oblivious to the way that you kept throwing him watchful glances even though it was also obvious that you were trying very hard not to; it was also evident that his presence was still making you a little nervous, and while Draco walked beside you with his hand in yours, he noted that you were clutching very tightly to Daphne on your other side. 

He longed to pull you to him and shower you in affection, but that, he realized, would probably not help at the moment either. He tried not to think about how angry and helpless that made him feel.

“Come on, love, the Healers said that you still need to rest,” said Draco gently once you were all inside, squeezing your hand and making to pull you off toward the bedroom.

He didn’t miss the slight panic in your eyes, the questioning look Daphne threw you, or the small nod you gave her to indicate that this was fine.

But he pretended not to see that he still wasn’t trusted, and instead he just gave you a reassuring smile and led you away. He didn’t say anything for the walk there – he was uncertain what, exactly, he wanted to say anyway – and he also didn’t say anything when he pushed open the door to his room, or when you sat on the bed and covered yourself with the warm blankets.

And then he sat on the edge of the bed with a small sigh.

“I love you,” he reminded you softly.

You opened your mouth, looking rather anguished, and then just pointed to yourself and then to him, and the corners of his mouth turned up a little. “You love me too?” he guessed teasingly.

You nodded, with a small smile, and he leaned forward to kiss you.

But when his hands came up to hold your face you edged backward, eyeing them with distrust, and you also stiffened at seeing him come toward your mouth, clearly very uncomfortable. He froze instantly, trying to swallow his disappointment and hurt at the clear rejection, and put a healthy distance between you again. Your eyes were uncertain and wary, but you were also twisting your hands and giving him a very apologetic look, clearly feeling very guilty.

For the first time, Draco considered the possibility that the person impersonating him had done something else with you before trying to crush your windpipe.

He contained the fury, but just barely. It wouldn’t do to make you more uneasy.

As if to say sorry, you reached out to take his hand, biting your lip. “It’s okay,” he said quietly. “He didn’t just walk in the bathroom and attack you, did he?”

Slowly, you shook your head.

“What happened?” Draco pressed, his heart rate increasing to a painful velocity and feeling as if something was clogging his lungs.

You squeezed his hand and used your other hand to point to your lips.

“He kissed you,” said Draco, pursing his lips. “Is that – ” He swallowed a lump in his throat. “Please tell me that it didn’t go further than that.” You shook your head, and he bowed his head and closed his eyes in relief. You squeezed his hand again, and when he looked up you just pointed to your lips, tapping them over and over with a significant look. “A lot of kissing?” Draco guessed, and you nodded with a grimace, suddenly pulling out your wand and waving it with a look of concentration on your face.

Parchment and quill came zooming over, and for a second you wrote on it before giving it to him.

_I thought it was you. I missed you._

Draco swallowed another lump in his throat. “I missed you too,” he said hoarsely.

You scribbled something again, something longer, and he leaned forward to read it.

_I know it’s not rational because it’s you now. I’m really sorry. I just want to be alone for a while._

He just squeezed your hand and gave you a small smile despite the fact that it didn’t feel like the muscles in his face were working properly and that his insides had turned to lead. “Don’t feel bad, love.” His voice suddenly became very agitated. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there. You were right. I never should have gone to Azkaban. This never would have happened if – ”

You quickly reached out and placed a hand on his lips, signifying that he should stop talking, and gave him a very tired smile and shook your head. He closed his eyes again, sighed, and took your hand and kissed it. But before he could say anything else, there was a small knock on the open door.

“Draco, dear?” 

It was Narcissa, and she was looking very concerned about something. Draco was just about to ask what it was when he saw the letter in her hand, and he sprang to his feet. “It was in the kitchen,” she said, rather fearfully.

He was there in a heartbeat, snatching it from his mother’s grasp and ripping it open with fingers that he could no longer keep steady.

It was the first one that was meant for him. It only read:

_Trust is a fragile thing, isn’t it, Mr. Malfoy?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> injuries, angst, language, general violence/psychological shit, mentions of death and sexual themes and really dark messed up and kinky shit…..the usual for this story okay, you guys know the drill by now


	21. Chapter Nineteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings in notes, as always. Next chapter may take a bit to get out, but I'll post the first chapter of one of my other ongoing WIP's here very soon, if not today then in the next few days. I also have some drabbles from a drabble game on Tumblr to post soon. Hope you enjoy :)

“What does it say, darling?” asked Narcissa fearfully, trying to peer down at it.

But Draco crumpled it up and stuffed it into his pocket, trying his best to keep his face blank and free from any emotion. “Nothing threatening,” he said, but his voice was rather hollow and his mother’s eyes flickered in concern. He heard you make a little rasping sound from the bed behind him, and turned to see that you were holding out your arm, clearly wanting to see the note.

“No, Y/N,” said Draco firmly. “It was meant for me.”

At this, you looked distinctly irritated, gesturing to yourself vigorously before giving up and beginning to scribble something on the piece of paper you had used to communicate with him earlier. Narcissa excused herself from the room, glancing one last time at her son with concern still lingering in her blue eyes, and Draco swept forward to read what you had written:

_The other ones were meant for only me, but you always insisted on reading them!_

“You’re not well,” said Draco. “Perhaps later – ”

You let out another angry little rasping sound and shook your head furiously, giving him your best glare. You wrote:

_I’m not weak, Draco, I’m just missing my voice for a while. Give me the letter._

Draco sighed. “I know you’re not,” he murmured. “That’s not why.” Still, he relented and fished it out of his pocket, handed it to you, and watched your face as you scanned the line on it. When you looked back up at him and handed the letter back, he saw the guilt flash across your features. “Exactly,” said Draco pointedly. “I just didn’t want you to feel bad, love. That’s all.”

You reached out for his hand and clasped it tightly, squeezing hard and biting your lip before tapping on your chest, right on your heart, and pointing at him. 

Draco just gave you a small smile. “I know,” he replied softly. “Love you too. Get some rest now, okay?”

He gave your hand a squeeze as well before standing up and heading out to the living room, giving you the alone time that you had requested and that he hoped would fix your wariness of him. As soon as he entered the living room, Daphne, Pansy, and Theo stood up. “Draco, I think we need to discuss how this person was able to get your hair,” said Daphne quickly.

“I keep telling you all, it was fucking _Amanda_ ,” said Theo angrily. “Who else was close enough to him and had a reason to put their hands in his hair, hmm? She easily could have plucked it out…”

Draco didn’t even look at them. He simply stood there, chest heaving as he breathed hard, a light in his eyes that made the others glance at each other uncertainly. And then he strode over to sit down on the couch, slumped forward, and put his face in his hands.

“Mate?” said Theo, very tentatively. “Er – ”

“She’s uncomfortable with me.” His voice was unsteady, and muffled by his hands.

“Give it some time,” said Daphne soothingly, stepping forward to touch his arm.

“Did she think it was me?” pressed Draco, shaking away impatiently from Daphne’s comforting hand and standing up abruptly, before beginning to pace angrily in front of the couch. “Did she suspect – did she really think that I would ever – ”

“No,” answered Pansy fiercely. “None of us did.”

“It will pass, Draco,” said Daphne quietly. “I’m sure it was just very traumatic being attacked by someone that looked just like you, so now whenever she sees you for a little while…”

“ _Stop_ ,” he commanded sharply, gripping his hair. “Don’t – don’t talk about it – ”

“Not talking about it doesn’t mean it didn’t happen,” snapped Daphne, in a tone very unlike her. “Don’t be a child, Draco.”

He gaped at his friend, surprised, before narrowing his eyes irritably at her. He opened his mouth, but before he could make any sort of retort, Harry Potter’s head appeared in the fireplace. “Oh, perfect,” muttered Draco very sarcastically, standing up and sweeping over. “What is it, Potter? I have enough problems right now without you adding more, thank you very much.”

“Allow me through the Floo,” said Harry briskly. “We’ve arrested someone.”

At this, Daphne let out a little gasp. Draco stiffened but then nodded immediately, eyes widening slightly as he stepped back from the fireplace with his heart pounding. A moment after Draco had murmured a spell, Harry Potter was stepping through the fireplace and brushing himself off, looking tired and frazzled as always.

“Who is it?” demanded Draco. “What are you going to do with him?”

“Relax, Malfoy,” said Harry sharply. “It’s Rookwood.”

“Rookwood?” asked Pansy from behind them. “ _He_ was the one writing the letters?”

“He _was_ an ex Death Eater,” mused Daphne, but she looked doubtful.

“We don’t know about the letters,” said Harry. “So far we don’t have any proof that any of this was related to him. Nevertheless, the circumstances of his arrest were interesting, so Hermione and I thought you might want to know what happened. We caught him trying to break into Kingsley’s office at the Ministry in broad daylight. Just a few hours ago.”

“Let me come see him,” said Draco, his voice shaking with fury. “Let me – ”

Harry cut him off quickly. “Whatever you want to do to him, Malfoy, I promise you that his fate was already worse,” he said, sounding exasperated. “It quickly became clear he has been a victim of the Dementor’s Kiss.”

“ _What_?” shrieked Pansy. “Then how was he at the Ministry?”

“Imperiused, most likely,” said Harry. “Now we’ve got him locked up. Of course, we can’t interrogate him, because he’s…well, you know. But we’ll just have to keep our eyes peeled for more clues. Please let us know if you hear or see anything else. Er – ” He paused. “And it’s probably best if you only come directly to either Hermione or myself.”

Draco took this to mean that Potter, too, did not trust the Ministry. While this was not reassuring, it _was_ nice to know that he and Potter were at least on the same page with something. “I want to come,” he said determinedly, and very loudly. “I want to see him.”

Potter stared at him for a moment, and then sighed again. “I don’t have time for your revenge plot, Malfoy…”

“I knew Rookwood,” said Draco angrily. “Better than you, Potter!”

“So? His soul’s been sucked out, it’s not like he’ll recognize you now, and he certainly won’t be able to tell us anything useful – and again, we don’t even know if it was him writing the letters, so killing him because of your girlfriend – ”

“Shut it, Potter,” snapped Draco, very curtly. “I want to come to the Ministry and see how the bloody investigation is coming along. I’ve had enough of being kept out of it.”

“Fine,” said Harry fiercely. “But not today. Things are nuts right now, so soon, but not today. I’ll keep you posted.”

And then he had stepped through the Floo, ignoring Draco’s look of pure rage, and disappeared in a rush of green flames. Draco whirled to face his other friends, his eyes blazing and fists clenched, and Pansy rushed forward to clutch his shoulder. “You’ve got to relax,” she said firmly. “You’ve got to, Draco. Everything will be fine. And besides, Y/N would want you to stay here anyway.”

“She doesn’t,” said Draco, his voice wavering. “She told me to leave her alone.”

“Just give her time, like I said,” said Daphne gently. “She loves you.”

“Right,” he said hoarsely.

“I assume your father didn’t say anything useful about all this?” asked Theo.

“No,” said Draco bitterly. “He didn’t have a clue.”

“We’ll keep brainstorming,” said Pansy, patting Draco on the shoulder.

* * *

The next two days were both slow and uneasy, though nothing of substance happened. 

The distance between you and Draco continued for a while, and though you were more comfortable with him being close to you and even kissing you very briefly, that was generally where it stopped. Even letting him sleep in the same room on that first night had been deeply unsettling. You hated seeing the look in his eyes whenever you stiffened and you knew that he could sense your discomfort, because it made you feel so terribly guilty, but he always insisted that he understood. The days were spent reading, or playing chess, or just talking with Daphne, Pansy, or Theo, and every day you all went to St. Mungo’s for at least a few hours to visit Blaise.

You had not yet tried to speak again, but the pain in your throat had been slowly receding over time, and you were feeling much better emotionally, too; to the point where on the third morning when you came into the kitchen for breakfast and saw Draco leaning on the counter and reading a newspaper, you walked up and slipped your arms around him from behind, resting your head on his back.

“Hey, you,” he said lightly, turning to face you. You noted, still, how he moved with much more caution than usual, and he kept his hands low and didn’t put them anywhere near your neck – there had been too many false scares the first day with that – but he did slowly pull you into a hug. “Sleep well?”

You just nodded against him and gave him a smile. You gestured with your head toward the newspaper and gave him a questioning look.

“No, nothing new happening,” he answered, looking thoughtful. “I think that’s a good thing? Either way, Potter popped by in the Floo this morning before you woke up. Said we could visit him and Granger at the Ministry today and see the investigation stuff, if you’re feeling up to it.”

You nodded enthusiastically. You were becoming so bored in this bloody mansion you could hardly think straight.

And so after eating breakfast, you and Draco took the Floo not only to the Ministry, but directly into Harry Potter’s office, which you assumed many people didn’t actually have access to. He and Hermione were waiting there already, and immediately Hermione swooped forward to give you a tight hug. You saw her eyes range over your neck when she pulled away, and you pulled some of your hair over the bruises, feeling rather self-conscious about their horrid color.

“I want to see Rookwood,” said Draco immediately, holding his chin high.

“I already told you that won’t do any good, Malfoy,” said Harry, rolling his eyes.

“Don’t care,” said Draco roughly. “I want to see him for myself.”

“It’s so unfortunate that he had the Dementor’s Kiss performed, because we could have extracted some of his memories if he hadn’t,” said Hermione ruefully. “We would already know the identity of the man behind all of this, but as it is, he doesn’t have a soul and therefore doesn’t really have memories, so…anyway, I agree with Harry, there’s no point to seeing him, Malfoy.”

You peered at the paperwork spread out on Harry Potter’s desk, choosing to ignore Draco beginning to argue with Harry over whether or not Draco should be taken to see Rookwood; and some moving images from the Gala caught your eye. It was an old clipping from the Daily Prophet – clearly, someone had gotten photos of some of the fighting that night, because the images showed people running, screaming, and brandishing wands at cloaked figures.

There were other things there, too, other newspaper clippings or photos presumably connected to the case.

Two more clippings from the Daily Prophet – one reporting on the attack on the Muggle village and the other reporting on a mass slaughter of some goblins. The word “ _robes_ ” was scrawled on both of these clippings. Your eyes moved further, onto a picture of the crime scene where Amanda had been murdered, a picture of Rookwood after his recent arrest, a picture of Draco…

“Trying to figure out what all of these things have in common is giving me a never-ending headache,” said Hermione, who had also sidled over to stand beside you, probably also not wanting to deal with Draco and Harry’s squabbling, and was looking over the newspaper clippings with you.

She smiled at you before glancing down once again at the various things on Harry’s desk, though her smile faded a little as she looked over all the items. You gestured your hand over it all, indicating that you wanted her to explain what was going on in her head; after all, if anyone could see something no one else had, it was going to be Hermione Granger.

“Well,” she mused thoughtfully, “I simply cannot determine a clear motive. There are too many different things going on, aren’t there? With Voldemort, at least, we knew what he wanted. He wanted the Purebloods in charge, and he wanted immortality. But with this one…” She sighed, her frown getting even more pronounced on her face. “We can assume he has a bit of a grudge against Purebloods, at least.” She pointed at the Gala newspaper clipping. “Though clearly he doesn’t think too highly of Muggles.” This time she pointed at the attack on the Muggle village. “Or Muggleborns, for that matter,” she said, gesturing to Amanda’s crime scene. “Though of course, she was a singular murder and that could have been a personal reason and not her blood. And really, I think he’s probably just going against these groups to pit us all against each other. And then there’s the whole random mess with the goblins.” She tapped that newspaper clipping pointedly.

You pointed to the word “robes” and gave her a questioning look.

“Those scarlet robes they wore at the Gala,” she explained. “They were used during the attack on the Muggle village as well, but even more interestingly during the killings of those goblins. It’s strange, because that was…well, years ago now. See?” She pointed to the date to show it had been roughly two years ago, and your eyes widened. “So what’s the point?” murmured Hermione thoughtfully. “I have a hard time seeing a group of people coming together under such random aims, which makes me think many of the people under those masks are Imperiused, if not most of them. I suppose that’s a good thing, because then not so many people are working with this man. But then who is in charge? Why these specific attacks? To stir up chaos? Hatred of _all_ these groups?” She gripped at her hair for a moment. “It’s so _frustrating_!”

You reached out and patted her shoulder with a smile, and she relaxed a little. “Then of course the connection with Rookwood,” continued Hermione. “And the impersonation of Malfoy. _Why_?”

“I’d like to know that myself, funnily enough,” drawled Draco, who had come over to stand beside you. You weren’t sure when he had gotten there, but he was also looking thoughtfully down at all the paperwork. When you looked up at him, you felt his arm very slowly and cautiously come toward your waist. You stepped a bit closer to him and smiled to signify that this contact was welcomed, and he returned the smile before wrapping an arm around you and tugging you to him.

“Most witches and wizards aren’t really fond of goblins, so that doesn’t really narrow it down,” said Harry. “It’s the personal connections like Malfoy or Amanda that I think might help most.”

Hermione sighed “We’ll all keep thinking on it. Right?” She looked to you and Draco, and you both nodded slowly. And then Harry Potter sighed. “You two should probably be getting on home,” he said. “We’ll keep letting you know about anything new, and please do the same.”

“Of course,” said Draco briskly, and Harry and Hermione followed you to escort you back to the Atrium, where you would use the Floo to get back home.

You were approaching the gates, maneuvering through the crowd of people bustling about on their lunch break at the Ministry, when a lone figure appeared out of one of the fireplaces. He looked positively frantic, especially when he spotted the four of you there. He practically sprinted forward, still in his bright yellow Quidditch robe from a game that presumably just finished.

Draco’s grip on your hand suddenly became almost painfully tight. “What are you doing here?” he hissed furiously at Ethan.

“The Ministry,” he gasped, clutching a stitch in his side. “He’s going to – you need to evacuate – ”

“How do you know this?” demanded Harry immediately. “Do you know who he is?”

“ _Yes_ ,” moaned Ethan miserably, straightening up and eyes ranging over all of you, looking positively horrified and desperate. “He made me do things for him – I swear that I didn’t want to do most of it, I _swear_ …but I Imperiused that bartender, and she got some of Malfoy’s hair…”

“You fucking _bastard_!” shouted Draco furiously, making to run forward, but you snatched his arm and held on as tightly as you could to keep him from doing so.

“Who is it?” asked Hermione anxiously. “Who?”

Ethan’s eyes widened. “It’s - ”

But no other sound could exit his mouth.

A spell had come whistling past you all, missing Draco’s right side by inches. Instead, the jet of green light flew past him, with the sound of rushing wind that always accompanied it, and it collided right with Ethan’s chest.

He crumpled to the floor instantly, dead.

And once again, just like at the Gala, you all turned to face a room of scarlet cloaks.

It became instantly obvious that there were less of them than at the Gala.

This in itself would have flared hope in you if you would have had the time to feel such a thing. But you were too busy drawing your wand in response to the figure that was standing there, flanked by five others, and who by the looks of the way his wand was brandished had just been the one to kill Ethan. And then the figure laughed – a boyish, pleasant laugh. “ _Snitch_ ,” he hissed, and the tone of his voice couldn’t have been more different from his laugh. It was cold and cruel and furious.

Almost instantaneously, the figures around him began to shoot spells toward the four of you. Harry Potter was sprinting to the side, trying to engage three of them over to the left and leaving only four for you, Draco, and Hermione. There were more figures in scarlet robes – perhaps ten or fifteen, but it was difficult, of course, to get a feel of it now, in the middle of battle – and they were fighting on the other side of the Atrium, and there were screams, and running footsteps and chaos as regular Ministry employees were pulling out their wands to defend themselves, and Aurors were beginning to rush in from the hallway that led the Auror department from which you had come –

Three of the figures had descended on you and Draco; Hermione was battling the other furiously, a blazing look on her face that was both terrifying and radiated sheer power, and she was holding her own well against her dueling partner.

“I got you good, eh, Y/N?” taunted the figure that had killed Ethan, and now you knew, you _knew_ that this was the man behind it all, the man behind all the letters, the man who had impersonated Draco in the bathroom…

If you would have had a voice to shriek in fury you would have, but you could only send a powerful nonverbal spell flying toward him; he deflected it easily, as well as the next one that Draco had sent at him, and you had to dodge to the side to avoid another spell from one of the other two figures.

“Still can’t speak, can you sweetheart?” he continued, and you could tell by the tone of his voice that he was laughing. Gritting your teeth, you raised your wand to shoot another spell at him – Draco was busy desperately dueling with the other figure, a cold fury on his face – but the other figure shot something at you, and it was all you could do to defend yourself with an invisible shield, and the purple sparks from the spell went flying through the air as you stumbled backward.

Hermione had taken down her opponent and was now stepping forward to take the one that Draco had been dueling, freeing Draco to turn back to the main figure and the other man. For a moment you all just stood, wands raised, breathing hard.

And then there was a sudden flurry as everyone began to shoot spells, blocking and firing and dodging to the side, the sparks making the air heavy with electric energy and the bright colors of the spells soaring through the air, colliding with each other and bits of wall and other objects. 

You and Draco were shoulder to shoulder, fighting desperately, but the other two men were talented, and quick, and it was all you could both do to keep up.

The man was still chuckling, even as he dueled. “I forgot to tell you in my letter, Malfoy,” he jeered, his masked face turning slightly toward Draco. “That I quite liked snogging your girlfriend. Since she thought I was you, she let me – ”

“ _CRUCIO_!” bellowed Draco, brandishing his wand. A jet of red light flew toward the man, but he leaped to the side and it missed him by only inches.

You had just sent a powerful spell at the other figure, and it hit its target and sent him crumpling to the ground. Suddenly, the leader flicked his wand. This one was colorless, but you could hear it rushing through the air toward Draco.

“ _No_!” you screamed, raising your wand to block it. 

He, too, was making the wrist movement to block, but it was too late. It hit him square in the face, sending him to his knees and clutching at his forehead, which now had an open gash across one side and was sending blood pouring down his cheeks and onto the marbled floor of the Atrium.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahhhh ya know, the usual…..drama and angst, language, violence, death, sexual themes and creepy villains


	22. Twenty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS are important this chapter, please read them in the notes if there is something adult you don't want to read.

The next few things happened in very rapid succession.

The man immediately began running away, but you were too distracted by Draco’s bleeding to try and send a curse after him.

Hermione and Harry caught sight of him making his escape and also tried shooting something at him—and they also shouted something at you—but they weren’t able to catch him.

He deflected whatever they shot at him with a flick of his wand over his shoulder, made it to one of the many fireplaces along the wall of the Ministry, and vanished in a flash of green flames, laughing as he went.

Still, that wasn’t your biggest concern at the moment, obviously.

With your immediate opponents neutralized or gone, you could hurry over to Draco and kneel beside him, pursing your lips at the deep gash across his forehead. He was pale, and losing a lot of blood. His wand had clattered to the floor, and his hands were shaking so badly that it jolted you into action. You could not give yourself time to panic.

You concentrated on the spell and waved your wand; it was difficult to do non-verbally, and when there were still noises of battle going on in the Atrium around you that threatened to break your concentration. But you managed it, and his cut slowly began to close.

The blood stopped pouring, and you breathed out a very long, shuddering sigh of relief, and then you grasped his face between your hands, not caring one bit that you were getting his blood on your fingers.

His blood, your blood. It didn’t matter.

He seemed to understand that your frantic gaze into his silver eyes was silently demanding whether he was all right, for he mumbled, “I’m fine, love…Just feel…little woozy…”

You scrambled to your feet, taking his arm and helping him stand. Indeed, he swayed and put so much weight on you that you gasped out a little, now very concerned about his lack of walking ability and how pale he was underneath all that blood. The only thing you could worry about now was getting him away from here, out of the center of the room. The action and fighting was beginning to die down, if the noise levels were any indication, but it was difficult to take stock of the situation in all of the chaos. Once you got him out of the way, then you could think about procuring a Blood Replenishing potion and doing something for his pain.

Step by step, the two of you made your way painstakingly slowly over to a far wall, where Draco slumped against it with a little groan.

When you could finally _really_ glance around, taking in the rest of the room, you saw that you had been right about the battle beginning to die down. Harry and Hermione were walking along a small line—perhaps five or six—of the bound figures in the scarlet robes, joined by Minister Kingsley.

Throughout the the Atrium, there were some bodies of Aurors—you fervently hoped only unconscious—scattered about. The rest of the culprits seemed to have been able to escape in all the commotion.

You gestured frantically to Hermione, not caring one bit at the moment about the unmasking of these people. The only thing that mattered right now was Draco. She came rushing over, took one look at Draco’s wound and his face, and said briskly, “Blood Replenishing Potion? Be right back.”

And she was off, hurrying back to the direction of her office. Thankfully you knew it wasn’t far and that it wouldn’t take her long at all, so you turned back to Draco and took his face again, brushing some hair away from his eyes and giving him the most reassuring smile you could manage.

“You were brilliant,” he told you hoarsely, eyes half closed. “And especially with everything nonverbal.”

You placed a hand on his heart and gave him a serious look, and he smiled vaguely. “Love you too,” he murmured. “So much.” And then his head slumped off to the side as he passed out.

Letting out a raspy, strangled little yell, you took his shoulders and shook them. You weren’t sure if it was due to becoming used to all of the trauma after everything that had happened, but you had been remarkably calm up until this point. Through the battle, through Draco’s face getting sliced, through Healing him up and getting him off to the side. But the way his head was lolling around like a rag doll with his eyes closed reminded you a little too much of what he would look like dead, and that, it seemed, was too much, and so you began to wheeze-sob again.

But Hermione appeared over your shoulder then, looking determined. You threw her a panicked sort of look, wondering how you were going to get him the potion now that he was unconscious. Hermione paused a moment, her brown eyes sweeping over him as she pondered what to do, but then she was taking a match out of her pocket, transfiguring it to a needle, purifying it, and waving her wand to summon what looked like little tubes before attaching them magically to both the vial of potion and the needle.

You shot her a thankful look and quickly inserted the needle into the veins of his right arm, cringing.

But after only two or three anxious minutes, there was more color in Draco’s cheeks again, and though he still hadn’t woken up, you began to relax. His appearance already looked far healthier.

Hermione put a steady hand on your shoulder. “He’s going to be good as new,” she told you kindly. “Can you wake him up alone? I should go help Harry.” She waved a hand the other direction and you nodded furiously. You almost grasped her hand to thank her, but thought better of it when you held them out and saw that they were still scarlet from all the blood.

As she got up to walk over to the apprehended figures, you waved your wand over your hands and Draco’s face to clean up a little, so that you both didn’t look quite so gruesome.

You smoothed his hair back from his face again and rubbed your thumbs over his cheekbones, and once more waved your wand, thinking ‘ _Enervate’_ with all of your energy.

It worked; Draco’s eyelids began to flutter, and then they were half open, seeing you kneeling there before him with reddened eyes and biting your lip in worry. And then you threw your arms around his neck with a little whimper and hugged him tightly, inching as close as possible.

“You sure you're not hurt?” he asked tiredly, rubbing his hands over your back.

You shook your head against his chest and clutched at him tighter.

“I can stand,” he told you quietly, right into your ear. “Let’s go see who some of these fuckers are.”

Leaning back to look at him, you put a hand in the air and held up a finger. He looked puzzled. “Wait? What do you want to wait f—” But you had cut him off with your mouth.

You hadn’t kissed him, _really_ kissed him, since before the incident in the bathroom. Or, to be precise, _he_ had been too careful to really kiss _you_. You, on the other hand, hadn’t really initiated much affection at all.

Now, however, you curled yourself closer and wrapped your arms around his neck again, kissing him so desperately that you were already running out of breath. He responded with just as much fervor, his fingers tightening for a while on your back, but then they moved carefully, very slowly, up toward your shoulders. He pulled away to watch your reaction as he slid his hands up toward your face—watching, you knew, for the first sign of wariness or distrust as his hands moved in close proximity to your neck—but you just held his gaze steadily, without blinking, chest rising and falling.

His hands eventually cupped your face. And then he smiled widely at you, and you smiled back, because he looked happier than he had for days.

Whatever strain his likeness attacking you had caused in your relationship had eased. You had both known, you were sure, that sometime it must. That at some point things had to go back to normal. But it was still a relief to know it was actually happening now. Finally.

“Draco,” you whispered hoarsely. Your first word in days.

His thumbs moved carefully across your cheeks. “So nice to hear your voice again. But you still shouldn’t strain it too much today, you know.”

“How do _you_ feel?” you rasped, and then frowned at how ugly your voice sounded to you.

“Just fine.” He leaned forward, still smiling, and kissed you very, very softly.

“I’m so sorry,” you mumbled against his mouth, eyes filling with tears. You hoped he would understand why you were apologizing. Your throat was already beginning to get scratchy.

“Shh,” he soothed, tracing your spine with his fingers. “Don’t apologize for anything.”

“But I—you—I wasn’t—” Your throat was burning.

“Shh,” he said again. “I mean it, Y/N, you did nothing wrong, so don’t worry. And you really shouldn’t talk more. Relax, okay?” He kissed you again, and then he gave you a teasing smile. “So should we go over now, or are you going to throw yourself at me again?”

You rolled your eyes and stuck out your tongue at him, and then you helped each other to your feet. Harry and Hermione were talking with other Ministry officials and moving about the figures that were kneeling on the ground, whose masks now off, their faces now exposed to the world.

Your eyes scanned the row of figures: all men. Some of them vaguely familiar, though you weren’t sure why.

But none of them gave you a jolt of recognition.

But Draco nudged you, jutting his chin out toward one of the men. “That’s Merwyn Finwick.”

You threw him a bewildered look.

“Keeper for the Tornados,” he murmured in answer very thoughtfully, his eyes moving through the line of men. “In fact…almost all of them are Quidditch players.”

That would explain why some of them were familiar, what with all the Quidditch games you had attended when you had still been together with…

You peeked over your shoulder, suddenly short of breath.

Certainly Ethan had been horrible, but it still didn’t mean you necessarily wanted to see him crumpled on the floor, dead; his body was still there, but there were two people standing over it, looking grim, and he had been covered with a sheet, so there was only a mass of white where he had been.

You swallowed hard and turned back to the line of men again.

Draco tucked an arm around your hip and pulled you closer. “I recognize two others as Ministry employees, too,” he continued, frowning. “ _Merlin_.”

Harry Potter came to stand beside the two of you. “We’re not sure how many were Imperiused or doing this of their own will,” he told you. “We’ll be taking them in for questioning and figuring that out, but Hermione reckons—just like she guessed earlier—that it was mostly the Imperius Curse. She said that the more people are under an Imperius Curse from one person, though, the weaker the effect is. So whoever that guy is, he’s been slowly cursing people for a long time…creating a chain of others to do it for him.”

“Interesting that there are so many Quidditch players,” commented Draco.

“They’re public figures,” said Harry. “Hermione said that a lot of people come into contact with them, so strategically it makes sense. They’re relatively easy to subtly curse while they’re out and about in public, especially once one of the team members has gotten it.” He pointed along the line. “The majority are from the Wasps or the Tornados. They’re also in good positions to continue the chain to other important figures. Quidditch players come into contact with high-ranking officials from the Ministry often. Fans, you know.“

“Fuck,” muttered Draco under his breath, looking agitated.

“You two should probably get home,” said Harry tiredly. “It still looks bad, but at least we actually caught quite a few. And we may be able to get some clues out of them.”

“Keep us posted,” said Draco firmly, and Harry rolled his eyes.

“Obviously, Malfoy.”

He turned and hurried back over to Hermione, who was now talking seriously with Kingsley. And then Draco glanced down at you, slipping his hand in yours. “Shall we?”

You nodded, though you were still struggling with swallowing the taste of acid in your mouth, like you wanted to be sick. You really wished you hadn’t looked at that lump that was Ethan under the sheet, and upon scanning the room, you saw now that a few other sheets were scattered about on the floor as well. Not everyone was just unconscious.

_That could have been us_ , you realized suddenly, horrified.

“They’ll catch him,” said Draco, as you made your way over to the Floo together. And then he looked suddenly very fierce, his eyes blazing furiously. “And if they don’t, we will.”

* * *

The mood was subdued when you both returned to the Manor.

You let Draco explain to Daphne and Pansy what had happened–not that you could have spoken much anyway, but even if you had been able to, you wouldn’t have wanted to go into detail. They seemed to sense this, for they didn’t ask many questions. They only hugged you both after Draco suggested that you both should get some rest.

It was still quiet when you got to the bedroom. You could feel Draco’s eyes on you every once in a while, perhaps wondering how much you wanted to discuss what had just happened, but you were glad when he didn’t say anything and only sat on the edge of the bed, opening his arms so that you could sit beside him and bury your head in his chest.

You weren’t quite sure how long the two of you sat like that, silently absorbing the events and the new information. You didn’t want to think about any of it, but you couldn’t stop seeing it. Not only the images of the battle, or Ethan dying, or Draco bleeding or slumped against the wall; but everything that had come before today: the attack in the bathroom, finding Amanda, every line of every note…

“I’m going to shower,” Draco finally said quietly, kissing the top of your head. “I’ll be out soon, okay?”

You just nodded with a small smile and watched him go.

But after a few moments of sitting there you couldn’t take it anymore. You didn’t want to be alone.

So you got up and strode purposefully to the bathroom, checking the hallway both directions before slipping inside. 

The water was already running and hot steam was filling the room; you slipped out of your clothes and decided, what with everything going on and all, that you should probably alert Draco to your presence rather than just stepping into the shower. “Draco?” you whispered hoarsely.

His head appeared around the curtain immediately, eyes wide with surprise and his wet hair plastered to his forehead, water dripping down his face. You saw confusion cross his features, and then delight, and when his eyes flicked up and down you standing there in an automatic form of appreciation, you realized how very badly you had missed him.

“Can I join you?” Your voice was still raspy from lack of use, the volume was barely audible, and talking still wasn’t particularly comfortable yet either. But at least you could do it.

His face split into a wide grin and he pushed the curtain open a little further and held out his arms in answer, inviting you in. You walked forward and stepped up, clutching his forearms and allowing him to pull you back into the stream of water. Very slowly, eyes never leaving yours and still making sure you weren’t uncomfortable, he moved his hands up and began moving them through your hair to get it all evenly drenched with water. 

But just like earlier, his hands no longer frightened you. In fact, you felt more relaxed now than you had in a long time.

“As if I would say no to that question,” he finally murmured, and you giggled. That also didn’t feel great on your vocal chords, but at least you could laugh again without _too_ much pain.

He just smiled in response, looking at you very intently before his eyes darted down to linger on your neck. You knew the bruises there were healing, now a yellowish color, and you thought that they still looked particularly ugly and gruesome. Almost unconsciously, you tugged your wet hair closer to your neck in an attempt to hide them from his eyes.

“No,” he chastised suddenly with a frown, and then he lifted his hands again questioningly. “May I?”

You just nodded, watching as he moved your hair carefully to the side and then peered very seriously down at your neck. When his fingers moved toward your neck and jaw he again glanced up at you to silently ask permission, and you just nodded. He tilted your head up and to different sides to examine everything closer, frowning deeply in concentration, but then he gave you a small smile and moved his hands up to your cheekbones. He moved his thumbs over them once. Twice. “You’re healing well,” he finally said softly, and then he leaned in and gently kissed your neck before stepping back with a crooked grin and reaching for the shampoo.

Your heart was thudding hard against your rib cage from his touch and kiss and proximity. Your eyes swept over him, his chest and his abdomen and…

And you decided that you could make better use of this shower.

You stepped forward, snatched the shampoo from his surprised fingers, and threw it off to the side, tucking your arms around your neck to kiss him again, quite aggressively, throwing your whole weight against him so his back hit the wall of the shower. Though he was probably surprised by your enthusiasm for the second time that day he automatically caught your hips and steadied you against him, running his hands appreciatively up your sides until he had reached your hair again; burying his hands in it as he kissed you back.

You moved your lips eagerly to his neck, and then down to his chest, which was moving rapidly, and slowly began to kneel, kissing your way all the way down to his abdomen–and why was he so utterly _perfect,_ why had it taken you so long to claim all _this_ –tasting the water droplets on his skin. 

When you glanced up at him, his face was entirely conflicted.

On the one hand, his eyes were dilated and there was clear desire in them. On the other, you saw concern written on his features.

“But,” he began, his voice low and hoarse, and a little stuttered, “But would that do damage to your– _oh_ ,” he breathed, because you had completely ignored him and instead wrapped your hand around the base of him, put your mouth on his tip, and lightly sucked. He let out a strangled sort of choking sound, and his hands flew to your hair and gathered it up, away from your face, so as to get a better view of how you slowly slid your lips over him, tongue dragging along the underside.

You moved slowly at first, but eventually picked up speed, using your hands at the same time as your mouth, pleased at hearing his labored breathing or the weak curses he emitted every so often.

“So good,” he was panting after just a few minutes, gripping even tighter in your hair and clearly trying to refrain from thrusting harder into your mouth. “Y/N–” 

You went suddenly deeper, so deep he hit the back of your throat, looking up and letting your gaze lock with his desperate gray one; his eyes were completely glazed and his chest was flushed, and when your eyes met his, he squeezed his shut. “Fuck,” he hissed, “I’m–I'm going to–”

But at this warning, you suddenly stopped and got to your feet; he stared at you both incredulously and indignantly for a moment, which made you grin at him rather wickedly. And then his eyes darkened, and he took your face in his hands again and kissed you so hard that you thought maybe your lips would also bruise.

“You’re going to be the death of me, I think,” he growled, before taking hold of your hips and, without warning, spinning and pushing you back against the wall.

You gasped when his hands came to your rib cage and then up to your breasts, his mouth to your neck, his hard length pressed against the flat of your stomach. You were torn: on the one hand you wanted things to be slow and seductive and to enjoy the feeling of the slickness of his wet skin against yours. On the other, it had already been too long without him and you wanted him to just fuck you already. 

He seemed to be thinking along the same lines, because his hands slid down to your hips again, his right hand cupping your left thigh and tucking it around his hip so he could press his hips forward, tip hovering tantalizingly at your entrance.

“Although,” he murmured suddenly, almost thoughtfully, nibbling briefly on your earlobe and making you shiver, “If I had to die, this _is_ how I would want to go.” He nibbled on your ear again before moving down a little to suck on your neck.

“ _Draco_ ,” you said pleadingly, gripping to his shoulders tighter.

“Hmm?” He leaned forward to kiss you again, still very slowly, pressing his body closer to yours and then tilting his forehead down, looking intently at your eyes with a small smile dancing on his lips, clearly smugly pleased with how the tables had turned.

“Just do it already,” you begged, moving your hips a little for emphasis.

He grinned, eyes darkening even more, if that were possible. And then, using his hands on your hips he pushed forward and guided you down, finally sliding in, your little cry of pleasure meeting his hiss of satisfaction. 

“I’ll make love to you later, then,” he promised, his fingertips digging tightly onto your hips and then sliding along your thigh as he began to move, though. “But now you want me to fuck you, don’t you?”

“ _Yes_ ,” you breathed, whimpering a little when he finally began rhythmically thrusting forward. “Draco–Draco, _oh_ –”

He was already speeding up, already was moving to a feverish snapping of his hips that was bringing you closer and closer each time his hip bones met yours; because at this angle, with your one leg up like this, he was so _perfectly_ hitting your clit, so that you almost saw stars.

“Love fucking you,” he was muttering into your ear. “Missed fucking you, want to fuck you every single day, you feel so good, love– _so_ _good_ –”

You couldn’t form a coherent reply. It was fast and feral and the days without as much physical affection between you sent you to your tipping point much quicker than usual. He hands were tight on your ribs when you felt the euphoria build higher and higher and then finally snap, throwing your head back with a stuttered cry when you came. He quickly stifled it with his mouth, letting you bite his lip; you felt his body go tense and then he was finishing, too, and you clung to each other, your nails digging into his shoulders, riding out the high.

After a moment he slowly pulled out, settled you down on your wobbly legs, and then pinned you against the wall and kept kissing you slowly for a while, smiling now against your lips. “Is that why you came to me in the shower?” he finally breathed against your mouth. “You wanted a quickie?”

“I didn’t plan it that way,” you whispered breathlessly, and you felt his quiet chuckle.

“Well give me about twenty minutes to recuperate, and then whenever you’re ready, feel free to jump my bones again,” he teased, hand trailing on your jaw. “You shouldn't strain your voice though, so I may have to go easy on you for a little bit.” He grinned cheekily, and you just smiled back, tired and completely satisfied.

“Love you,” you said simply.

He kissed you again, his tongue trailing your bottom lip, and you sighed. “Back at you,” he murmured. “Should I wash your hair?”

You nodded, picked up the previously discarded shampoo bottle, handed it to him, and turned around, smiling hazily. You felt much more relaxed than you had before entering the shower. And so you just leaned back a little with another content sigh as Draco began to shampoo your hair, closing your eyes in bliss at the gentle massaging of his fingers on your scalp.

* * *

“I have to run to the study,” said Draco when he and Y/N returned to his bedroom after the extra long shower. “I still haven’t had time to send money to the families at the bar, and since my mother has been handling most of the paperwork lately I should probably go have a look at it.”

“Need help?” asked Y/N, throwing him a smile as she dried her hair. Her voice was still hoarse and scratchy from the damage to her throat, and he really wished she wouldn’t insist on still talking, even if her sentences were short. But he knew it wasn’t any good to tell her again to be careful.

“No,” he said, kissing her briefly and squeezing her shoulder. “Stay here and relax. Be right back.”

The mansion was, as usual, quiet and empty, his footsteps echoing too loudly on the marble floors as he made his way to the majestic Malfoy study.

Draco briefly considered trying to find his mother first because she would know more about what was going on with the accounts, but who knew how long that would take. He felt suddenly a gigantic wave of guilt for having left all of that business to her lately—he had promised her he would help her more with his father still in Azkaban.

And perhaps it had even been very unwise to leave it all to her, considering her very clear drinking problem.

But Draco had, understandably, been rather preoccupied lately, so he knew the most he could do was to resolve to be better moving forward.

When he arrived he found that the paperwork was, predictably, a mess.

Pursing his lips, Draco spent at least ten minutes shuffling through and trying to make sense of it all. Once the papers were stacked in neat little piles and he had a better sense of their order, he began looking through, but this did nothing to clear things up. There were two things that confused him, because the state of the accounts seemed to have changed since he last saw them.

For one thing, it seemed as if his mother had created a new account, which he couldn’t understand at all. Most accounts under the Malfoy name had a specific purpose, but this one had none.

Once he dug a little deeper, he saw that the money that had been in his mother’s personal account had been transferred to this new account, which was still under her name. Every single Knut, Sickle, and Galleon that had been in her account had moved to this one. Frowning, he found himself beginning to feel rather alarmed.

The most substantial account—the one in his father’s name, and technically in Draco’s care—was still normal and intact. But the one for his mother had contained at least a fifth of the Malfoy wealth, and it had been moved, and it seemed there were regular withdrawals coming out of the new account, rapidly depleting it.

But _why_?

There was nothing else for it. He was going to have to speak to his mother about whatever her spending problem was, and about the new, strange account she had made that was seemingly specifically for that purpose.

And then one more thing caught his eye, and it made his heart begin to thud in his chest even harder.

It took him a moment to believe it, but the paper that contained the account information also claimed that someone else had access to the account.

_Name withheld_ , said the paper.

Draco spun on his heel, still clutching tightly to the paper and fully ready to actually run through the mansion to find his mother as quickly as possible. But as he turned he knocked his shoulder rather unceremoniously into a sleek black cabinet; and the door, which had clearly not been closed all the way, swung open. A faint glow was coming from inside the cabinet.

He blinked in surprise at seeing a Pensieve sitting on the shelf.

Pensieves were incredibly rare magical objects; he was quite sure that the Ministry itself had only one.

Of course, that didn’t necessarily mean his parents couldn’t have gotten their hands on one. His father had always been something of a magical objects collector, and with their wealth it wasn’t out of the question—not even close—that he had been able to obtain one. And there were plenty of objects that Draco was sure that, even now, he was unaware that his parents (namely his father) had hidden somewhere in the Manor, kept out of sight from the many Ministry raids after the war.

Still, some terrible, prickling feeling told him that this was a recent acquisition and not even his father’s at all. Perhaps it wouldn’t make him so nervous if he hadn’t already been feeling strange after looking over the information about the accounts, but…

Curiously, he leaned forward to look; his hand touched the silvery liquid in the basin, and he found himself falling forward into the Pensieve.

It was into a replica of Malfoy Manor that he fell—into this very room, in fact.

There were two inhabitants in the room, and neither one of them even noticed that he had arrived; which, of course, he knew was the case because he was in a memory. And it must have been his mother’s memory, because she was one of the people here, and standing in front of him.

He gaped at her for a long moment, because here she looked so very young.

And then he felt the strongest sense of foreboding.

_Something is wrong_ , he realized anxiously, feeling his gut harden as alarms went off in his head. _I should get back to Y/N…and find my mother, and Daphne and Pansy…_

“I don’t think my family would approve,” his mother was saying worriedly, clasping the other person’s hands.

It was a man, and Draco couldn’t see his face, as he was standing behind him. The man had an athletic build, and he was blonde, but he was far too short to be his father, despite the fact that his mother was looking at him with the sort of look on her face that he could only assume meant they were more than friends.

If Draco had to guess at his mother’s age in this memory, he would say she was fresh out of Hogwarts.

“So what?“ the man was arguing passionately, and very gruffly. “We love each other, Cissa, we can…we can run away together, we can elope…”

“I cannot,” said his mother sadly, biting her lip. “You’re not a Pureblood, and— ”

“So what?” the man said again, angrily, and Draco slowly began inching forward, wanting to see who his mother was talking to in this memory but irrationally feeling fearful that the man would see him, because he sounded so very agitated when he spoke. “The public loves me, I can more than provide for you…and don’t you love me? Don’t we love each other?”

“Of course,” his mother whispered, looking extremely pained and positively conflicted. Draco unconsciously reached out his hand to her and began moving forward. “But you know very well that my family…”

Draco was just about to get to a position where he could get a glimpse of the man’s face. His heart was thudding, adrenaline pumping through his veins despite the fact that nobody here could see him, because this was all connected, wasn’t it? He had stumbled upon an answer, hadn’t he?

He could feel it.

But he didn’t get to see the man or see the rest of the memory before he felt a hand on his shoulder—a hand with long, sharp nails that were digging in very painfully—yanking him backward.

Gasping in shock, he felt himself stumble, and when he steadied himself and straightened up he realized that he was back outside the Pensieve and in the study of Malfoy Manor.

His mother was there, having been the one to pull him out. And her eyes were, as always, glazed over.

Before he could say or do anything (namely, apologize that he had accidentally dipped into one of her memories before demanding an explanation), she drew her wand and pointed it directly at him.

Draco took a step back, feeling a growing sense of horror.

The puzzle pieces clicked with dizzying speed and clarity.

The person who had been helping break the wards. The person who had been delivering all the letters within Malfoy Manor. His mother had been Imperiused all along.

How had no one thought of it before?

How had _he_ not seen it before?

He felt sick.

The drinking hadn’t been _her_ problem. It had been, Draco realized now, a very calculated way for her to keep from successfully fighting off the Imperius Curse. His mother was a powerful witch, and left to her own devices, Draco was quite sure she would have been able to throw off the curse—especially if, while under it, she was instructed to do something that would jeopardize the safety of her beloved son.

But if she was forced to constantly consume alcohol…always drunk, her mind consistently weakened…

“Mother,” he whispered hoarsely, his voice pleading. “Mother, it’s me. Draco. Put your wand down. _Please_.”

“Come along now,” Narcissa said vaguely. “Don’t fight with me. I promise it wouldn’t be pretty.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> language, violence, blood, psychologically damaging shit, and all that good stuff; and.....(!)some pretty graphic ass smut. If you want to skip that, it should be quite easy to detect where it begins, and then you can skip down to the next "section" of the story.


	23. Twenty-One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As always, please check warnings in the chapter notes. This will update much more regularly now until the end!

“Mother,” said Draco again, in a low and rough voice that he was trying to make both comforting and firm. “Mother, put the wand down, it’s me, Draco, I –”

“ _Now_!” hissed his mother fiercely, causing Draco to falter helplessly and go quiet. Narcissa’s eyes went very wild for a moment, and sparks flew out of the end of her wand, singing the front of Draco’s shirt. He let out a little yelp at this, but his mother shushed him harshly. “Be _quiet_! And come with me. If we see anyone, don’t you dare act like anything is out of the ordinary. If you do anything to suggest something is wrong I will kill them on the spot.”

Frantically, Draco’s mind raced for options.

He could go with her, of course, but who knew what she – or _he_ , because he knew with absolute certainty that the man controlling his mother was the one that had been writing the letters and had been at the Ministry this morning – had planned.

The only other real option was to duel his own mother, which he really did not want to do for obvious reasons. Still, even in the few seconds he was taking to ponder this she seemed to realize what, exactly, had crossed his mind, for she snapped suddenly, “Give me your wand! Now.” She threateningly jammed the point of her wand harder into his chest and he winced.

“Mother, you don’t have to do this.”

“Give it to me, Draco,” his mother commanded hazily. “Unless you want your friends or your girlfriend to die? Surely you’ve realized now that he’s been staying here at the Manor all along?”

Draco’s brain flooded with blind panic.

_No, no, shit, no –_

“All right!” he said hastily, holding his shaking hands up. “Fine, I’m going to reach in and give it to you, okay? Please just don’t – please leave them be.”

“Hurry up!” she said shrilly, looking quite demented again.

Maintaining careful eye contact with her, heart hammering painfully and the blood pounding in his ears, he slid his hand steadily into his robes and pulled out his wand – his only real defense – and held it out. 

His mother snatched it with deft fingers, tucking it coolly in her own robes before giving him a curt and satisfied nod. “Now…”

But she faltered suddenly at the sound of approaching footsteps coming from the corridor.

Draco briefly wondered if it was _him_ , but then he caught the look on his mother’s frozen, calculating face and it was clear that this wasn’t part of the plan. Narcissa recovered quickly, however: shoving her wand away, arranging her face to look nonchalant and more like herself, and then throwing him a warning glance. “Remember…” she reminded him in a low, dangerous voice, drawing a finger across her neck and giving him a significant look.

_Act natural_ , Draco thought quickly, swallowing his fear and anxiety as best he could and his eyes flicking to the door to see who was coming.

“Draco?”

It was your voice, and Draco’s panic heightened to clog his throat, momentarily blinding all his senses. His mother was giving him a sidelong glance.

_I’ll kill them on the spot._

Ironically, the person he always wanted to see most was the person he wanted to see _least_ right now. Though it was a relief to know that you had not been captured by whoever he was and Draco could, at least momentarily, relax about that...if his mother wasn’t satisfied with his behavior…

His mother moved to stand slightly behind him – he felt the tip of her wand press into his lower back.

A reminder.

He cleared his throat and tried to keep his voice as calm as possible. “In here, Y/N.”

Your head appeared around the door frame, and he saw the slight relief that flooded your face before you smiled at him and his mother.

Draco felt sick again. If only you knew.

His brain whirred as he tried to find a way to somehow communicate a message to you to run, to take Daphne and Pansy and flee from the mansion. But nothing occurred to him that his mother wouldn’t notice.

“Are you all right?” you asked, looking suddenly concerned. “You seem worried.”

“Yes,” he said quickly, clearing his throat again when the word came out very raspy. “Yes, of course. The paperwork is just a bit of a mess and my mother and I are trying to sort it out, you know.” He gestured weakly to the piles of paperwork strewn about the desk that he had been looking at earlier.

“I haven’t been as responsible as I could have been,” added his mother, with a tinkling little laugh before she squeezed Draco’s arm. 

It was harder than usual, and though it looked affectionate from a distance it most decidedly was _not_ , and Draco fought from wincing.

“Oh,” you replied, voice scratchy, and smiling a little. “Doesn’t sound fun. Do you two need help?” You reached up automatically, almost absentmindedly, to rub at your neck, frowning.

“No,” said Draco quickly, and when he saw your frown deepen and felt his mother’s grip tighten a little on his arm he realized that he had said it a little _too_ quickly. “No, you go rest with Daphne and Pansy,” he said, hoping that the suggestion would be enough to keep you from being alone. And then he said kindly, in an attempt at sounding like himself even though right now he felt like he was about to go insane, “And don’t forget that you can still hurt your voice more if you talk too much, love.”

“I’m fine,” you insisted, waving a dismissive hand, though you were looking at him with such affection that his heart twisted violently and he had to physically swallow the urge to suddenly shout that you were not fine, he was not fine, nothing was fine.

“Draco’s right, my dear,” said his mother, also very kindly. “Help yourself to some potions in that cupboard in the kitchen, if you like.”

Draco’s paranoia rose up and threatened to swallow him whole; even though his mother may have just been trying to get you away from the study, he was suddenly fearful that she was sending you into a trap. “Pansy knows the potion cupboard organization very well,” he added evenly, trying to speak slowly and normally. “Perhaps ask her to help you.”

“I know it quite well too,” you said, rolling your eyes, probably thinking him utterly ridiculous for assuming you needed help finding a potion on a shelf.

He felt a horrible sense of desperation when he saw you turning to leave, because he suddenly realized that he wasn’t quite sure when he would see you again. He had taken a small step forward before he could stop himself, heart pounding painfully as your name slipped over his lips. “Y/N!”

His mother’s wand jammed roughly into his back and he halted.

You turned around, smiling slightly and with a questioning look on your face.

He dragged his eyes over you, trying to burn the image into his memory. 

He took the briefest of moments to appreciate everything, ranging the longest over your face before his eyes met yours. For a long moment he just stared at you, and you gazed curiously back.

“I love you,” he told you, fervently trying to himself that it wasn’t for the last time and trying not to make it sound that way in his voice either. “So much.”

Your eyes filled with a familiar adoration that he had become quite used to seeing on your face whenever you looked at him. His chest was burning when you gave him a small smile back, clearly a little shy about all of this open affection right in front of his mother. “I love you more, Draco,” you said simply, your smile both loving and a little teasing before blowing him a kiss, smiling once more at Narcissa, and then exiting the room.

Draco’s shoulders slumped as he exhaled – he deflated completely. He was relieved, depressed, and terrified.

He was seriously contemplating physically attacking his own mother in the hopes of regaining his wand, but she came around in front of him again, her own wand once more pointed at his chest. “Don’t think about fighting me,” said Narcissa quietly. “I know you are. I’ll hex you before you can do anything useful, and if you try it, he’s going to make you very sorry you did.”

“Mother,” said Draco again, voice shaking, “Mother, snap out of it. You don’t want to do this, you would never hurt me, it’s Draco, your _son_ – ”

“Silence. I know who you are,” she answered waspishly, blinking slowly.

“Who is _he_?” pressed Draco desperately.

She scoffed. “As if I’m going to tell you that.” She tilted her head toward the door with her wand. “Now, we’re going to walk through the mansion together. Are you still going to behave if we run into one of your little friends? None of that overblown sentimentality, Draco. That was suspicious.”

“Where are we going?” he asked. “Please don’t hurt – ”

“Yes, yes, don’t hurt Y/N, don’t hurt your friends, blah, blah, I know,” she replied, sounding bored. Her eyes were glassier than before. “I’m not going to touch them unless you act out of the ordinary, Draco, though I can’t promise anything from him. I don’t know all of his plans.”

Draco felt the nausea roll over him in waves, especially when he thought of one letter in particular that Y/N had received. “Please no,” he whispered anxiously. “ _Please_ – ”

“No point in begging _me_ ,” his mother said haughtily, straightening a little. “I just told you I wouldn’t do anything unless you forced my hand, so take it up with him. I raised you smarter than this, Draco.”

Draco’s shoulders stiffened, and he glared at her. “ _You_ did not raise me,” he said, very coldly. “I am not talking to my mother right now, as far as I’m concerned.”

“Touching,” she shot back, equally cold. “Now let’s get a move on. We’re going to the kitchen, where you will make me a very strong drink – ” Draco made a little noise of protest, and she narrowed her eyes at him, daring him to say something. But he pursed his lips and didn’t say anything else, hating the helpless feeling. “And then we will continue down to the dungeons.”

“Why does it have to be there?” asked Draco roughly, shuddering. He hadn’t been down in the Malfoy dungeons for years. In fact, the last time he had been there was when he had been forced to be, years ago, when the Dark Lord had been living in his home in 7th year and when he had been coerced into taking food to the prisoners, or sometimes bringing prisoners up for torture.

He usually preferred to pretend those dungeons didn’t exist, though now he rather violently wished he would have had them demolished.

“Because that’s what I was told,” his mother answered simply. “If you see anyone, you will tell them that we are heading to the library. Anything else, and I will kill them. Do you understand?”

Draco glared furiously at her. “Yes,” he muttered finally, wishing his hands would stop shaking.

His mother walked half behind him the whole way, partially obscured as she had been in the study so that she could keep her wand point on his lower back and force compliance. It was slow going, or perhaps it only felt that way to Draco, because every step was like torture, every breath was painfully loud to his ears, only made worse by the blood rushing through his brain. He felt lightheaded, but his feet felt heavy. The corridors seemed to stretch on longer than they really were, as if his field of vision was completely distorted by the raw, primal fear.

They made it to the kitchen without seeing anyone, but Draco had just putting the finishing touches on his mother’s drink – weakening her yet again, he knew, lowering his chances of ever getting through to her, of her throwing off the Curse – when the kitchen doors opened.

His mother dug the wand into his back harder, one last warning, before she carefully and discreetly slipped it into her robes so that Daphne and Pansy, walking forward, would not spot her doing it.

“Hey,” said Pansy casually, flouncing toward the bar. She eyed the dark pink drink in the cocktail glass on the bar. She glanced between him and his mother, clearly confused that Draco would be making her a drink when they had all heard him complain about his mother’s drinking. “Is that for Y/N?” she asked finally, and then she grinned. “I thought she had still written off alcohol after her birthday. Though I don’t know what she’s complaining about, considering – ”

“It’s for me, Pans,” said Draco gruffly, arching an eyebrow at her.

Daphne giggled. “Fancy,” she teased, waving her hand at the frilly umbrella.

“Good for you, Draco,” said Pansy, still smiling widely and giving him an approving nod. “None of that toxic masculinity. If you want a Cosmo in a pretty glass with frilly decorations, I say go for it and be proud.”

“Too true,” agreed Daphne, laughing.

Draco, who normally would have found this banter mildly amusing rather than irritating or distracting, just said stiffly, “My mother and I are heading to the library now, you two. Have you...seen Y/N?” He glanced briefly at his mother, hoping she wouldn’t take issue to the question.

She just gave him a look that seemed neutral, but deep in her eyes he could tell that he was walking on eggshells. 

She wasn’t stupid. She knew he was trying to give hints.

“No,” said Pansy, looking confused. “Probably still up in your room.”

“Right,” said Draco, heart sinking and fear flooding him, though he was careful to betray nothing of that on his face. “Well…see you.”

As soon as they were in a different corridor that was empty, his mother pulled the wand on his back again and murmured into his ear, “Stop trying to get them to group together. Not that it would work, anyway. He’s far too clever.” Her voice sounded vaguely adoring. “Now hand me that drink.”

He did so, and he watched in horror as she drained the entire thing, waving her wand to vanish the glass. “Mother,” began Draco, sounding strained, but she cut him off, sounding amused.

“I thought I wasn’t your mother?”

Draco chose to ignore this. “What has he been doing to you?” he pressed, feeling sick all over again all of the sudden. “What do you do for him?”

“I take care of his every need, of course,” she said, smiling a little, eyes very hazy now, and Draco squeezed his eyes shut, trying not to know what that meant and somehow knowing all the same. His fists clenched at his sides, and from head to foot he was trembling from rage and anxiety.

“Merlin,” he whispered hoarsely, glancing at her again.

His poor mother. His mother, all alone for years with his father away, and he hadn’t even noticed that she had been taken prisoner right under his nose, her free will entirely removed.

There were many, many things from his life that Draco didn’t think he would ever forgive himself for, and this was another one that could be added to the list; and certainly one of the biggest, now surely to linger guiltily there and haunt him forever. “Mother,” he choked out suddenly, feeling tears burn in his eyes and a lump in his throat. “Mother, I’m so sorry. I should have noticed. I should have spent more time with you. This is my fault.”

“Oh, don’t worry about me, Draco darling,” she replied and the lump in his throat grew at her term of endearment. She pressed the wand in him harder as they turned the corner and began to descend a pair of stairs. “Worry about yourself.”

The man was already there when Draco and Narcissa entered the dank, dimly lit dungeons.

His arms were folded and he was facing the door, clearly anticipating their arrival, and he was wearing those scarlet robes. The mask was in place, but Draco raked his eyes over him anyway, trying to notice details. If he happened to get out of this, at least he’d have them to tell Potter and Granger.

_Average height, much shorter than_ _me_ , he noted silently. _Not entirely athletic, though it looked like he certainly used to be.  
_

“Well done, pet,” he purred to Narcissa, and Draco _knew_ that voice. Didn’t he? He knew it from somewhere, but he couldn’t quite place it.

“Don’t speak to my mother that way,” snapped Draco, blood boiling at the blatant objectification. Narcissa, in response, jabbed her wand into him, making him walk more briskly forward. Draco’s glare was furious as he stared at the masked face.

“Wait until I speak to your girlfriend,” the man drawled, and Draco lunged.

The man sent a Tripping Hex in the blink of an eye, causing Draco to crash unceremoniously to the hard floor, groaning out in pain as the hard stone smacked his cheekbone. That was sure to bruise later. Holding the side of his face, he slowly sat up, warily watching the man with narrowed eyes.

“How very predictable you are,” he said, clearly amused. “But if you try something like that again, Malfoy, you’ll still achieve nothing. Except, of course, I’ll have your mother go fetch Y/N and bring her down here. Wouldn’t want that, would you?”

Draco was shaking. “What do you want?” he asked roughly.

“Power,” said the man simply.

“Over us? Over my mother? Over what?” hissed Draco.

“Everything,” said the man simply.

“Show yourself,” demanded Draco.

The man scoffed. “Right.”

“Why not?” taunted Draco. “Not confident in your plan? Afraid I’ll get away and be able to identify you?”

“Oh no, I’m quite confident,” he said jovially, and something about the tone again jiggled in Draco’s brain. He knew it, he _did_. 

It was from years ago. He desperately raked his mind, but perhaps his fear was too great, or perhaps it was the distraction of the man talking again, but he couldn’t for the life of him remember where he knew the voice.

“How are you planning on getting that power, then?” asked Draco, hoping to keep him talking. Anything to get him from fetching Y/N, or Daphne or Pansy.

“Wealth is power, Draco boy,” the man answered. “The Malfoys and Purebloods know that better than anyone, don’t they? Pulling strings at the Ministry. Always having influence in the right places.”

“It’s not like that anymore,” said Draco harshly, defensively.

“Oh, I know,” replied the madman, laughing. “I’ve seen plenty of your financial records. You donate to other causes now and not the Ministry. But your mother’s assets are now mine. Once your father is dead, _she_ will legally be mine as well.”

“You _fucking_ – ”

“But,” said the man forcefully, cutting off Draco’s insult, “The main Malfoy assets are under your name, aren’t they, Draco, my boy? With your father in prison?”

_My boy._

Draco’s brain whirred with recognition. Who had _talked_ like that, who _was_ he…

“Get to the point,” said Draco flatly. “What do you want from me?”

“I’ve already got your mother,” he said, chuckling, and Draco’s fists clenched at his sides, wanting nothing more than to leap forward again, but he wisely stayed put. “Soon I’ll have your father out of the way. And from you…” Draco could hear the smile in his voice. “I want your full wealth and eventually the wealth of the other Pureblood families. I want your father killed, and I want you out of the picture. I can leave you alive, if you prefer.” Draco could practically see the smirk under that mask, and he vibrated with fury. “You can relax in Azkaban while I slowly carry on with the rest of my plans living here and publicly accruing influence as the new member of your family…and privately I’ll still be causing mayhem with this little terror group of mine. It’s quite fun, you know. I’m clever. I’ll play the long game. And the Ministry will be _desperate_ for me by the time I’m ready to take power.”

Draco swallowed hard, trying not to panic, but the man was already speaking again before Draco could think of something to say to try and talk him out of it. Not that Draco could. This man’s brain was clearly addled. “I would even let Y/N visit you from time to time in prison,” he continued, laughing. “Better than you being killed, yes? Doesn’t that sound generous? Mind you, she might be too tired from – ”

“If you think,” snapped Draco, talking loudly over him, knowing that if the man finished his sentence he may not be able to restrain himself from physical violence. “That we can just waltz into Gringotts and do this, you’re out of your damn mind. The goblins will wonder why in the world the _entire_ Malfoy fortune should be available to someone else. They’ll _suspect_ foul play.”

“Don’t speak about those creatures!” he hissed, and for a moment, Draco thought he sounded almost panicked, saw how his body tensed at even the word _goblins_.

Narcissa suddenly swept forward, arms reaching out to soothingly stroke the man’s arm. “Don’t worry,” she crooned. “They can’t get you here, my love.”

The man shuddered, shaking his head rapidly as if relieving himself of a physical burden; and then he wrenched out of Narcissa’s grasp, shoving her roughly away and causing her to stumble.

“Don’t touch her like that!” Draco snarled.

The man seemed to have recovered from his little episode, because he suddenly laughed loudly. “Draco, my boy, if you don’t like me touching your mother, I have some very bad news for you.”

“You piece of shit,” hissed Draco, trembling. “I will fucking kill you. Slowly.”

“Threats?” The man sighed dramatically. “Oh, Draco, you’ll learn very quickly to behave. Narcissa, dear, please go fetch Y/N and bring her here, would you?”

Draco paled. “ _No_!” he cried, launching desperately to his feet. “ _Please_ – ”

But Narcissa was already out the door.

“We don’t need to ‘waltz into Gringotts’, idiot boy,” said the man softly, amused at Draco's panic. “You think I haven’t thought all of this through, Draco? You thought wrong. Now, will you cooperate or not?”

“Yes. Please. Take all my money,” Draco rasped, hating that he was begging. “Take it all, I don’t care, there’s no need to involve Y/N or any of the others, please…”

“Oh, but Y/N will ensure that you behave, and I want much more than your money,” said the man, chuckling. “Or would you rather I do the Imperius Curse? You know, it was rather fun to attack her while looking like you. Imagine the possibilities if I put you under the Curse, eh? Then again, forcing you to do things you don’t want to do but knowing you have no choice sounds like even more of a good time, doesn’t it?”

“You’re sick,” whispered Draco, trembling. “You’re sick in the fucking head.”

“I am _powerful_ ,” snapped the man. “Do you know what happened, when those _creatures_ found me after I ran? When I owed them those debts? They took me for two years. They _tortured_ me.” He was raving now – he sounded demented, and Draco’s sense of horror swallowed him whole. “But I _escaped_. I was _clever_. I was able to return to Wizarding society and evade them, boy. But no one asked, no one cared, and nothing changed. Just the same power structures, the same blithering fucking idiots...”

“Hold on.” Draco’s head was swimming. “Bets? With goblins? Are you…?”

Stepping forward, the man ripped off his mask, revealing a shock of blonde hair, a nose that looked like it had been broken a few times – Draco now knew from collisions with Bludgers – and he leaned down. His blue eyes, with the strange, twisted light in them, were only inches from Draco’s.

“No fucking way,” whispered Draco, wondering if he was hallucinating.

“That’s right,” said Ludo Bagman quietly, eyes flashing. “Weren’t expecting this, were you?” He sneered. “Pleasant, fun-loving Ludo. I’ll take your place in this house and I’ll fuck your mother and girlfriend and hell, maybe even the other two girls for fun, and no one will suspect a bloody _thing_.”

Draco wanted to retort, but his throat had gone dry.

Things were clearly about to get a whole lot worse, judging from the sounds of the two pairs of footsteps now approaching from the stairs to the dungeon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the usual: language, psychologically fucked stuff, mentions of violence and torture and all that; also, (!)allusions to/mentions of noncon


	24. Twenty-Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warnings, as always, in the notes. After this one we only have two more full length chapters and an epilogue to go! We're almost there!

You had known something was wrong when Narcissa had come to greet you, and then had become eerily insistent that you follow her to the library. 

It was something in her eyes, or perhaps the tone of her voice, and, of course, that Draco was suddenly not with her.

“Where’s Draco?” you had asked nervously.

“He’s already there,” she said, pleasantly but firmly. “Come along, now.”

Slowly, you got up from the chair you had been occupying and followed the Malfoy matriarch down the corridor. Alarm bells were going off in your head and you found yourself wishing that you would run into Daphne and Pansy, but they were nowhere to be seen; they had vanished somewhere in the large depths of the Manor.

It was when you turned down another corridor that you knew very well didn’t lead to the library that you spoke up again. “Narcissa?” you said timidly, hoping desperately that she was just incredibly drunk and had accidentally taken a wrong turn, “Where are we g – ”

Very suddenly, Narcissa whirled around. She had slipped her wand out of her robes when she had been walking in front of you, and it was now pointed at your chest; she was breathing harshly and rapidly, a strange, hazy light in her eyes. “Your wand,” she demanded stiffly.

_It’s been Narcissa this whole time_ , you realized, eyes growing wide in horror. _She’s been Cursed, she’s been letting people into the Manor;_ _she was over at the Zabini’s before Blaise was attacked…_ _oh my god, that time I heard that laugh_ _in the night_ _,_ _that_ _was him,_ _he’s been here the whole time_ _…_

Knowing it was wiser to do so, you reached in slowly and relinquished your wand, heart pounding.

“Where’s Draco?” you asked again, the very shrill tone of your voice badly scratching your throat.

“Don’t worry,” said Narcissa, grinning now in a demented sort of way. “We’re going to see him.”

And she brandished her wand in the direction you should continue walking. Feet feeling extremely heavy, you slowly followed the route she led you down, not wanting to see what would happen once you got there but also needing to arrive as soon as you could, because Draco was there. Narcissa must have already had him under control in the study – no wonder he had looked so desperate when he had told you that he had loved you. _Fucking idiot_ , you cursed yourself. _Why didn’t you realize?_

It became obvious that she was leading you to the dungeons when you continued going down flights of stairs, the walls becoming more bare and the air becoming staler and draftier as you went further and further down, until you knew that you were officially underground.

You shivered, but it was less from the cold temperature and more about the predicament you were in.

Desperately, you tried to think of a way that you could somehow get a message to Daphne and Pansy; but especially without your wand, there was nothing that came to mind. Automatically, your hand flew to your throat in a bit of a panic, wondering if the man that had attacked you was there, too…he must be, unless Narcissa had merely bound up Draco somehow…

When Narcissa reached the door to the dungeons and pushed it open, you immediately saw that he _was_ there. He was standing, wand brandished at Draco, who was in the middle of the dungeon, his face twisted in alarm when he saw you enter with his mother.

What was more, the man was also unmasked.

“Ludo Bagman?” you whispered, hardly believing your eyes.

“That’s right, sweetheart,” he said happily. “Long time no see, hm? I’ve missed you.”

Your stomach churned and your eyes moved to meet Draco’s; for a long moment you just stared at each other, trying to silently communicate and reassure the other that you were okay. You wished you could run to him, but somehow you knew that wouldn’t be allowed, and so you stayed your ground. Draco’s eyes had fury in them and you detected panic and helplessness too; and you wondered what, exactly, Ludo Bagman had been saying to him before you had arrived.

Bagman suddenly grinned and held out the arm that wasn’t pointing his wand at Draco. “Come over here, sweetheart.” He waved you toward him.

“ _No_ ,” cried Draco immediately, sounding strangled. “You told me if I cooperate – ”

“I told you that Y/N would be used to make you behave, idiot boy, but I also told you that I’d take your place in this Manor and fuck your mother and your girlfriend, didn’t I? I made no attempt to hide this. Not my fault you weren’t listening.” Bagman laughed, and you let out a little squeak of fear, stumbling back toward the door until your back collided with the point of Narcissa’s wand.

“Go on,” said Narcissa roughly, pushing you forward.

Full of dread and shaking from head to foot, you made your way over to Ludo Bagman, who tucked an arm around your waist and tugged you closer to him. You shivered in disgust, leaning away as far as possible, and he used the tip of his wand to move your hair to the side and examine your neck. “Still have bruises, don’t you?” he said softly, with a little chuckle. “One can’t say you didn’t put up a wonderful fight, sweetheart. Very commendable, I must admit. But I suggest you don’t fight now. It will only make things much worse for your boyfriend here.”

His eyes flicked to Draco, whose face was so full of rage that it looked as if he were in physical pain, but his lips were pursed and he was keeping quiet.

“You want to insult me and call me off, don’t you, Draco boy?” asked Bagman, laughing. “But you’re behaving yourself, so that means you’re learning, aren’t you? Very good.”

“What do you want?” you asked him, keeping your voice low and steady. It would not do to let him see how afraid you were. He had already been able to do plenty of that, and you certainly didn’t want to give him more satisfaction than he was already getting from his perverse little games.

“Oh, I explained all this to Malfoy already, and I really don’t have time to explain it to you, sweetheart,” he said, sounding bored. “Just know you’ll stay alive and still get to live at this Manor. That’s what you wanted anyway, isn’t it?” Before you could argue, he had pointed his wand at your throat again, jamming the tip hard into your skin so you winced.

“So,” he said lightly to Draco, who had made a little sound of protest in his throat, “Here’s what will happen. You’re going to give me some of your hair.” Bagman’s arm tightened on your waist, and he leered at you for a moment. “She might start to miss you when you’re safely locked up in Azkaban, you see, and that was so fun when I got to be him last time, wasn’t it, sweetheart?”

“ _You_ – ” began Draco furiously, before faltering and going quiet when Bagman pressed the tip of his wand harder into your neck as a warning. You could feel tears spilling over your cheeks by now, which you were sure that Bagman liked, considering that he was completely mad. You wished you could stop, but you couldn’t; _At the very least_ , you thought fiercely, _I’ll cry quietly, damn it._

“Then,” continued Bagman cheerfully, though there was a dark quality to his voice, “You and your mother are both going to head over to Azkaban prison and pay your father a little visit.”

Draco seemed to struggle for words for a moment. “Can’t Y/N come with us?”

Bagman laughed. “No. She’s going to stay here and act as security that you behave as you should. You see, your mother is going to fulfill a little task for me, and you’re going to claim it was you.”

Draco’s eyes flicked to you; you wished there was something you could do about his fear, but you could only gaze back helplessly at him. “What task?” he finally asked slowly.

“She’s going to kill your father,” said Bagman simply, and Draco blanched.

“ _No_ ,” he said, pleading in his tone. “That would destroy my mother. Please…”

“Your mother only cares about me now, exactly as she should have since we were younger,” said Bagman sharply, waving off his concern. But then, suddenly, he laughed. “Or do you just want the excuse to do the deed, Draco? Lucius _did_ royally fuck up your family’s lives during the war, didn’t he? I can imagine there are plenty of pent up daddy issues in that blonde head of yours.” He shrugged, still looking incredibly amused. “Well, go ahead, if that’s what you’d like. It doesn’t really matter who does it. As long as people think you did it, and you confess.”

“I’m not killing him,” said Draco fiercely, fists clenched. “And neither is my mother.”

Bagman let out a deep sigh. “Oh? Your choice. But Draco, if he doesn’t die today at one of our wands, then I will torture and kill _her_. And your other friends, too. Then I’ll put you under the Imperius Curse to have you do what I want anyway.”

He tugged you closer to his side again, and you flinched. Bagman arched an eyebrow at Draco, whose hands were now visibly shaking at his sides.

“ _Draco,_ ” you choked out, wanting to tell him that it was all okay, that he didn’t have to choose, even though technically none of that was true at all. Still, you wanted to say something that might put him at ease, because his eyes had a wild gleam in them.

“Fine,” he said finally, quietly, sounding very strained. “I’ll go. Just please don’t…don’t hurt her.”

“ _NO_!” you yelled. “Draco, don’t go, don’t do it, they’ll lock you up!”

“That’s the point,” said Bagman smugly.

“And he’ll hurt us anyway,” you continued, ignoring him, only gazing intently at Draco’s eyes and hoping to sway him. “But we can handle it, so don’t follow through with his plan, don’t give him what he wants!” You took a deep breath, about to launch into more convincing, because Draco could throw off the Curse, you were confident that he could; but your breath was suddenly robbed from your lungs, for Bagman had turned and shot the Cruciatus Curse at you.

Immediately the pain of it sent you to your knees, and it lasted all of ten seconds before you were writhing around on the hard floor, the screams filling the dungeon, hoarse due to your throat –

“ _STOP_!” you heard Draco’s voice roar, and the pain ceased. Your vision was a little blurry when you sat up, and you were dizzy, but you could make out that he had fallen to his knees, one arm outstretched toward you and looking very desperate.

“Just a taster, Draco,” said Bagman coldly. “I could do much worse, and you’ll watch every bit.”

“I said I’ll go,” said Draco again as he dropped his arm. He was shaking violently.

“Excellent,” said Bagman jovially. “Now, Narcissa dear, could you please fetch our…friend?”

You stiffened, and saw that Draco had done the same.

“What friend?” you demanded from the ground, wanting to sound fierce but only sounding breathless from the aftereffects of the curse. You still weren’t sure that you could stand yet.

Narcissa had nodded and swept out the door, and Bagman said, “You need a guard, of course, to make sure that you and the others don’t escape, and then I don’t have to stay down here all day.” When he saw your and Draco’s eyes widen in horror, he laughed again. “Yes, I’m going to fetch your little friends living here, too, as well as Theodore Nott. Luckily the Zabini boy is already taken care of. Don’t want them mucking up our plans, do we?”

You and Draco shared a long look, but stayed quiet.

Narcissa was already returning; that much you could tell from the sound of footsteps outside. But there was only one pair, and again you and Draco glanced at each other fearfully.

You felt and heard who – or _what_ – the ‘friend’ was before you saw it.

The feeling manifested itself in a horrible chill in the air.

The dungeons grew even colder than they had been before, causing all of you, Bagman included, to shiver violently. But that wasn’t all: there was also the feeling of despair, like you’d never know happiness again.

Immediately your thoughts spiraled to darkness.

_This is pointless._

_He’s got it all planned._

_He’s going to lock up Draco._

_He’s going to hurt me and the others._

_He’s going to win…_

Rather than want to stand up, now all you wanted to do was lie back down on the hard ground and give up. _Accept the inevitable_ , your mind told you. _You’ll never get out of this. How could you?_

The rattling, bloodcurdling breaths became louder when the door to the dungeon clicked open again, and in the dementor came, gliding over the ground, entering before Narcissa and moving to wait beside the door. Its presence so close only heightened your sense of misery, and by Draco’s hooded eyes and the expression that had come over his face, the gloom had settled over him too.

_How did Bagman get one of these things?_ you wondered vaguely, wishing you could curl up into a ball and cry. It took a few moments before you realized that you had, in fact, curled up there on the floor and were attempting to take slow, even breaths.

_But certainly if he promised it enough suffering…enough despair…_

_We’re done for_ , your brain said, hopelessly.

“Very good,” said Bagman softly. He turned to Draco. “Once you’re sentenced, the control of the Malfoy fortune will pass to your mother…which, of course, means me. We’ll work on getting the other Pureblood fortunes afterward, won’t we, darling?” he said, stroking Narcissa’s cheek.

“I’ve told you not to touch her,” snarled Draco, surprisingly vicious considering the presence of the dementor that was sucking all the joy and hope and fight out of the room.

“And I’ve told _you_ that it’s too late for that.” Bagman grinned. “Now, it’s getting late, so let’s get this underway. Our friend will guard Y/N and the other prisoners after I fetch them. Try to escape, and it will Kiss you.” He threw you a look of warning, but your brain was too sluggish to even consider escaping.

It wouldn’t work, anyway. You knew that now.

“Draco, you’ll go with your mother. Follow her every command or I promise that I will inflict as much pain as possible on everyone in this dungeon. Understood?”

“Yes,” mumbled Draco, eyes on the ground, also looking like he had surrendered all hope.

“People need a predictable villain,” said Ludo Bagman. “They would love for it to be you. So let’s give the people want they want, Draco Malfoy.”

He brandished his wand at Draco, who slowly stood. Warily, you looked up to watch him go. Now you were crying again. You could feel the tears, hot and wet, spilling out of your eyes, and you reached out a weak hand, wanting him close to you. Bagman was rushing him out of the room, and Narcissa was following. Draco’s melancholic eyes were fixed with yours. “Y/N,” he said, voice gravelly and very despondent, the hopelessness making your insides twist uncomfortably, “ _Y/N_ – ”

But then Narcissa’s hand closed around his upper arm, yanking him away quicker, cutting him off.

The door to the dungeon closed, leaving you alone with the dementor.

* * *

The guards thought nothing of seeing Draco and Narcissa together, coming to visit his father.

He wished they would notice the way he was trembling, or that something was wrong with him; that he was not walking with his usual tall, haughty gait or that his eyes were darting around frantically, feeling as if every one of his nerves were frayed, about to snap. Even if they _did_ notice, it wasn’t as if he could say something right here; he would have to wave them off and come up with an excuse, since his Imperiused mother was with him and she would report back to Bagman. Keeping Y/N under threat was as good a control as having a wand jammed in his back, if not better.

_I’ll get back_ , he told himself desperately, now able to tell himself this being away from the despair of the dementor. _I’ll get back to the Manor before he can hurt any of them, I will, I will…_

It was the only thing he could tell himself to keep him putting one foot ahead of the other, toward the cell where they kept his father.

The standards of Azkaban had improved drastically since the war – mostly Hermione Granger’s doing – so it was her that Draco could thank that his father was not having to sit around dementors all day every day, that his cell was actually quite large and comfortable, and that the prisoners were allowed to do various activities under supervision. In fact, his father was not in his cell when he and his mother arrived, and the guard went off to fetch Lucius Malfoy from his afternoon activity.

“Perfect,” breathed his mother in his ear, her voice harsh and fanatically pleased, “I can take your wand now after the security checks without your father even noticing, and when they check for the last spells cast, they’ll see the Killing Curse on yours. Go on, give it to me!”

Draco didn’t argue. He just thrust it at her, mouth twisting in a grimace, and she slipped it inconspicuously in her robes a few moments before the guard appeared in the room for visitors, with Lucius Malfoy at the end of his wand.

It was probably pointless for the guard to do that. His father only had a few months left in his prison sentence and he wasn’t stupid enough to risk an escape; and besides, Draco sometimes got the feeling that his father quite liked it here, away from the Wizarding World and responsibility. This feeling was only exacerbated by the fact that Lucius was smiling in a very content sort of way.

_Father, if only you knew_ , thought Draco grimly. _But you never had to deal with the_ _worst_ _consequences of anything_ _you chose_ _, did you? I was the one tasked with killing Dumbledore. And now I’m the one tasked with keeping the Malfoys together after everything while you_ _were_ _here._

“Hello,” Lucius said, leaning forward to kiss his wife and then embrace Draco, who stiffly returned the gesture. His heart was painful in his chest, ripping in two; he wanted to shout at his father and give him some sort of warning, but Imperius Curse or not, he knew he had no choice but to act as though everything were horribly normal when it couldn’t be less so.

“Ten minutes,” said the guard, and then he left the room to go stand outside.

“Father,” greeted Draco, trying to sound casual. “Having a good time?”

“Oh yes,” said Lucius Malfoy. “Some of the other lads and I have a chess tourney going. I’m doing quite well, actually.” Draco nearly choked as he realized that either Y/N would die or Lucius Malfoy would never get to end that chess tournament, and he began to shake uncontrollably, his breathing shortening; he was no longer able to keep his composure. Lucius’ brow furrowed when he saw his son’s behavior. “What is it, Draco? You look upset.”

“He’s in mourning,” said Narcissa lightly.

“In mourning?” Lucius’ frown got deeper, more pronounced. “For whom?”

“You,” said his wife simply, before getting quickly to her feet, drawing Draco’s wand, and pointing it at him. “ _Avada Kedavra_!” she said, quietly, a murmur, just as Draco cried out and also leaped to his feet, but of course there was nothing to be done. The green light connected with his father’s chest and Lucius Malfoy slumped over the visitor’s table, very much dead by his wife’s hand.

“Holy _shit_ , you really…you really fucking…”

Draco could hardly speak. His voice was coming out in merely more than a whimper, and he felt bile rise up in his throat. His father’s head was tilted to one side, one gray eye, identical to Draco’s, staring lifelessly up at him.

Everything was a blur, and Draco staggered a few paces backward, almost falling over, feeling dizzy as his mother ruthlessly shoved his wand back into his hand.

“Don’t forget,” she said, her voice a cold warning, and Draco stared unseeingly at his own wand between his fingers, watching it vibrate in his hands.

When the guard came bursting in less than a minute later, perhaps attracted by the sounds of shouts, Narcissa Malfoy was crying very convincingly and dramatically screeching “ _WHY_?! Why, Draco, _why_ …” She sank to the floor weeping, covering her face with her hands, and the guard drew his wand and pointed it at Draco immediately, looking furious.

“Did you kill him?” spat the guard, brandishing his wand at Draco. “DROP IT!”

Draco didn’t make him ask again. He dropped his wand to the floor with a clatter, felt the metallic taste of blood fill his mouth at how hard he was biting his tongue. He couldn’t believe it; his father was not dead on the table over there, his mother had not done it, he would not be blamed…

And yet Y/N’s face flashed across his mind even in all the numbness and confusion and terror. And so when the guard asked again, voice rising to a shout, “ _Did you kill him_?”, Draco slowly looked up at him from the wand that had been dropped to the floor, his gaze still unseeing, and he murmured:

“ _Yes_.”

And so the guard stepped forward, grabbing him roughly by the forearm to lead Draco away and to the Ministry for arrest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warnings: language, violence, torture, depressive thoughts, (!)allusions/references to noncon, (!)character death


	25. Twenty-Three

Three days passed.

The public, desperate to see a disliked former Death Eater officially behind bars, were clamoring for a speedy trial, and it seemed the Ministry was prepared to give the people what they wanted, for they were holding Draco in the Ministry rather than sending him to Azkaban to await trial.

The days were long and slow.

Full of grief and pain and nausea and a worry that drowned him.

Harry Potter visited him on the first day.

Hermione Granger on the second.

They both asked him the same question: “Did you do it, Malfoy? Was this whole thing you?”

To which he had replied, hoarsely, as he was supposed to: “Yes. I orchestrated it all.”

Harry Potter had pursed his lips and nodded, his eyes ranging over Draco for a moment before leaving his holding cell.

Granger, on the other hand, had looked incredibly frustrated, as if he had said something that had not gone according to her plan.

And she had muttered, mostly to herself, “But that doesn’t make any _sense_.”

Draco had shrugged, speaking over the lump in his throat and the blatant lies he was forced to tell. “I never had control, Granger. I finally wanted it.”

“But your father…your friends…Y/N…” Her voice was small, and she looked doubtful. The harsh tone he had used had sounded very convincing, and he knew that she wasn’t quite comfortable with him yet after Hogwarts, even after all these years. He didn’t blame her.

The mention of them and the sound of Y/N’s name had sent jolts of something very much like electricity through Draco’s body, an unpleasant current of pain, making his spine stiffen and his face twist as Hermione Granger looked on shrewdly. He wanted to ask her if they had gone to the Manor. Surely she and Potter had. Or the Ministry had. He guessed that Bagman had either Imperiused everyone or coerced them into acting normal for their visit. He wanted to ask Hermione Granger if they were all alive, to know that what he was doing wasn’t for nothing. He wanted to ask Hermione Granger, observant as she was, if she detected something off about Y/N, because…

Draco shuddered. The thought of her – of all of them – in that Manor at the mercy of Bagman and a dementor had him on the brink of madness from worry and fear.

He occupied his days grieving, not eating, hardly sleeping, pale and drawn. Most of the time he was crumpled up in the corner with his head between his knees and planning on how, if presented with the opportunity, he would rip Ludo Bagman limb from limb.

On the third day Hermione Granger was back, and she took one look at his uneaten food and said to him, “Malfoy, you’re going to die if you don’t eat something eventually.”

That didn’t sound so bad. But he knew that he would be leaving behind his loved ones to a worse fate so he just stared blankly at her, internally resolving to eat the old sandwich the guards had brought him for lunch even though he didn’t feel hungry.

Granger sighed and, to his surprise, she tentatively sat across from him on the hard floor.

“We can get you out of the sentence, possibly,” she said quietly. “You’re clearly not well. If we plead insanity, you could go somewhere nicer rather than Azkaban. Even get to go home and visit under supervision, and if you get better, possibly be released for good…”

“I’m _not_ insane!” Draco hissed, his eyes flashing, but that was not a response that seemed to convince Hermione Granger, because she raised her eyebrows as if to say that he was proving her point, and he scowled. “I’m in my right mind,” he said brusquely. “I will not plead insanity.”

Her eyes searched his face, looking for something, and he bristled.

The last thing he needed was for Granger to play detective, because she _would_ eventually figure it out, and she would endanger his friends and family.

“Now piss off, Granger,” he muttered. “Solitude is better than being around a Mudblood.”

The word was like acid in his mouth. He watched as her face crumpled, but he kept his expression twisted in a sneer. He supposed that the fact that she was surprised that he had called her that horrid name meant that she had noticed how much he had changed, after all.

_I’m so sorry,_ he thought desperately.

“Fine, Malfoy,” she said quietly, standing up and dusting herself off. “Then get up and come with me. I need to take you to the visitor’s room.”

He looked up, eyes widening, but then quickly arranged his expression to looking bored. “Oh?” he drawled. “Sure you trust me in that situation again, after what I did last time?”

Again, he tasted bile. He saw his father’s eyes gazing lifelessly at him. He contained a shudder.

Granger just stared him down, not intimidated in the slightest. “You’ll be on one side of a spell and your visitor on the other,” she said calmly. “It’s very powerful and it functions like a transparent wall – something Muggles call plexiglass – so if you have the sudden urge to break through it and hurt her, you won’t be able to. You’ll be happy to know that all visitations have to have this set-up now after what just happened.” Her eyes were hard. “Now come on.”

_Her_.

Draco fought to control the tremor in his hands. His mother, most likely. Come with more instructions or information from Bagman.

What would she report about what was happening at the Manor? The anxiety rose up like a wave and threatened to swallow him whole, but again, he let his face betray nothing when Granger was scrutinizing him; he only slowly got to his feet and followed her out of his holding cell.

* * *

You sat nervously in the hallway of the Ministry, twisting your hands together in your lap.

When Hermione Granger came out to wave you in, looking grim, you just nodded at her and swept past, not knowing what to say to her about any of this and especially not wanting to see the look of pity on her face that you knew would be there if she thought Draco was guilty.

_He confessed_ , you realized. _She must think he is. But she’s smart. Maybe she’ll figure it out…_

You badly wanted to tell her, but that was another reason you had to avoid talking to her. You had been warned back at the Manor that if you pulled anything funny, one of the others would be killed. Pansy was particularly mouthy to Bagman and Narcissa, so you guessed she would go first.

So you kept quiet, trembling a little as she let you enter the room.

“Five minutes,” she told you gently, and shut the door, leaving you alone.

Draco was on the other side of a clear barrier, a spell shimmering in the air, and he looked so terrible that your heart almost broke just looking at him. He clearly hadn’t been sleeping or eating; you could see how his arms were vibrating from here from lack of food. Three days and he was already wasting away.

As soon as you had entered the room his head had shot up and his eyes had gone wide, and when Hermione had closed the door, leaving you alone, he sprang to his feet and all but sprinted to his side of the barrier. You followed suit, coming to stand right before him, hating the separation and itching to touch him. He seemed to be feeling the same, for he put a helpless hand up, perhaps to rest against it, but gasped and withdrew when it repelled him.

For a long moment you just stared at each other, scanning the other’s features for any sign of further damage, feeling equal parts a longing and a terrible sadness. His eyes were so bloodshot and sad and soft that you could not hold back some of the tears that had welled up from spilling over your cheeks. And then he squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, bowing his head.

“Y/N,” he said hoarsely, before looking up again. “I thought it would be my mother. I’m…. _so_ glad it’s you. So glad I get to see you, at least.”

“Me too. Bagman said that it might be suspicious if I didn’t visit you,” you told him, moving your gaze carefully over him still. “Oh Draco,” you whispered sadly. “Are you not eating or sleeping?”

“Can’t,” he croaked. “I’ve been so worried. Has he – ” His throat seemed to stop working, and a violent shudder tore through his upper body. And then his gray eyes found yours again. “Has he hurt any of you?” he asked, sounding both furious and broken.

Your eyes filled with more tears. “Only – only some torture, sometimes,” you said, trying to sound light and casual even as his face flooded with horror. “But he’s mostly away,” you said quickly. “The worst part is that we’re always stuck with that…with that creature…” It was your turn to shudder. It felt so good to be away from that awful feeling of despair that the dementors brought, and knowing you would be leaving Draco and going back to it made you breathless with dread.

“Are you sure, Y/N?” he asked fiercely. “That’s all? You’re not…trying to make me feel better? Withholding something?”

“I promise,” you whispered, nodding. “He was riling you up before, I think. He said if he breaks you too much now you won’t be able to act properly.”

“What else has he said?” pressed Draco anxiously. “Anything important?”

You knew what he was doing. Bagman’s words would be added to his endless arsenal of anger, something to think about when you left him alone again. It was much easier to focus on the anger and pure fury than it was to sink into the despair.

“We’ll be at your trial,” you replied, looking miserable. “I don’t know why, but I assume it’s because it would look strange if we aren’t there. He seems very pleased about having us go.” Draco just nodded stiffly and closed his eyes again, hating that they would all be witness to what was sure to be his guilty sentencing. “Draco,” you whispered, stepping as close as possible to the barrier, putting your hand up before remembering the spell and regretfully withdrawing it. “I’m so sorry about…about your father. And your mother.”

He inhaled – you saw his shoulders rise and fall sharply – and when he looked back at you, his eyes had tears in them. “Yeah,” he murmured back, sounding very strangled. “My mother was…she was quick about it, at least. It all happened…very quickly…”He shuddered again, and you cursed the barrier once more.

For a moment Draco was lost in some of the particular scenes from the nightmares he had been having over the past few nights anytime he tried to close his eyes. Some of the scenes were the ones that involved his father’s death and the horrible, crazed look on his mother’s face as she had done it.

He blocked these images as best he could during the day, but they came back at night when he couldn’t actively repress them.

“I love you,” you reminded him, trying to keep your voice strong. It was your turn to keep things together for him, as he had done for you. “And I’m going to get you out of here, Draco.”

He suddenly put both hands up, looking very frantic and eyes wild, forgetting about the barrier and being repelled backward so forcefully that he staggered back and had to step forward again. “Don’t do anything rash,” he pleaded. “Y/N, if I lose you I _will_ go insane, I’m not – I’m not just saying that, okay, I mean it, that would send me right over the fucking edge into madness – ”

“Draco,” you said quickly and soothingly, cutting him off, “Relax. Eat something. Try to sleep. I’ll be careful.”

The door behind you swung open, and Draco swore furiously when Hermione Granger said, “Time’s up.” Nodding sadly, you swept your eyes over Draco one last time and he did the same to you before you followed her out of the room.

When the door closed with a snap behind you on the other side, you felt more of the tears that you had been holding back for Draco’s sake coming on, and she noticed.

“Is he guilty?” she asked carefully.

“You’ve heard him confess,” was all you said, just as careful, and you were thankful when she only hugged you and didn’t ask you any further, direct questions.

* * *

The day of the trial came, and Ludo Bagman came to fetch you and your friends.

When he entered, you vaguely looked up from where you had been resting your head on Theo’s shoulder, and Daphne glanced up from Pansy’s.

You had all been in a sort of huddle against the far wall, too full of despair to do much of anything else except lie there silently and listen to the slow, rattling breaths of the dementor across the room.

“Thank you,” said Bagman to the dementor, and it began to glide away.

Before its effects could truly leave the room, Bagman had quickly and ruthlessly cast the Imperius Curse on all four of you in quick succession.

“You will do nothing out of the ordinary,” said his voice, calm and commanding. Right in your ear. In your very brain. And you found that you wanted to listen to it.

It wasn’t a trance. You were perfectly aware of everything you were doing–how you went to the Floo, stepped through, arrived at the Ministry, went to the lift, took it all the way down to the lower level with the court rooms. There was the tingle of necessity in your mind, like a string pulling you along to something inevitable: _go to the Ministry, go to the court rooms, go watch quietly._

The court room was quite full. People were whispering excitedly or twisting in their seats to talk to each other, or letting their gaze wander to the Wizengamot, who had filed in wearing their plum colored robes, the ‘W’ emblazoned on the chests a flash of silver from across the room. When you entered with Theo, Daphne, and Pansy, there was an uptick in the murmuring.

You found you didn’t care. The only thing that mattered was your task, the compulsion niggling at the back of your brain: _file into the back, keep quiet, don’t draw attention, watch the trial._

So it went quickly.

There were no emotions in you when a door opened at the far end of the hall and two guards came out, each on one side of Draco and escorting him to the chair in the middle of the room. You were too empty and singularly focused to try and observe his facial expression as you usually would, or to try and see if the circles under his eyes were better, or even to try and catch his eye and show him that you were here, in some form of solidarity, at least. You did not feel indignant when the chains hanging from the chair rattled, and then rose up and clamped his arms down.

The mumbles and whispers rose to a crest and then crashed into silence when Kingsley Shacklebolt, sitting front and center of the Wizengamot as the Minister for Magic, rose a hand.

The proceedings themselves were fast. You sat and watched in detached bemusement as Shacklebolt asked a few questions and Draco answered them. There was no need for a complicated or lengthy trial–he had confessed.

Before you knew it the gavel had banged, the court room was jeering with pleasure at a guilty sentencing and the guards were leading Draco away for a life in Azkaban.

Still, you felt almost nothing.

Just before reaching the door, Draco half turned.

Until now you had only seen the back of his pale blonde head as he had sat in the chair; now you caught a glimpse of his features. He was scanning the crowd desperately. It did not really register that he was looking for you and your friends, nor did you care much when his eyes found you all sitting up in the back row.

Something flashed across his face, but you did not try to detect what it was.

And then the guards had pulled him through the door, and he was gone.

A new compulsion came: _get back to Malfoy Manor._

_Speak to as little people as possible._

There were some grumblings from others about how boring the trial had been as the four of you began leaving. Some people were even upset that there hadn’t been enough investigation into the matter, despite the clear confession of guilt.

No one spoke directly to you. It was easy to follow the requirement settled in your mind, this time in reverse: _leave the courtrooms, back to the lift, go to the Floo, return to Malfoy Manor, come straight back down to the dungeons._

Bagman and the dementor were both quietly waiting; the Imperius Curse was removed, and the despair that accompanied the creature paired with the true processing of everything that had just happened nearly made your knees buckle. Bagman didn’t say a word. He didn’t need to. All he did was smirk, give a brief nod to the dementor, and sweep away, slamming the dungeon door behind him.

Vaguely, in the muddled haze of grief and depression, you wondered what people would think if the killing didn’t stop with Draco locked up. Surely they had to realize it wasn’t actually him, right? Right? But no...no, they probably wouldn’t. He had confessed, they wanted to see him in Azkaban, people wanted to feel safe, everything was hopeless and pointless and you would rot here.

You had been on your knees for some time before you registered that you were.

The look on your face when Draco’s eyes had found you had been blank. Not smiling. Not reassuring. Now that you could remember and process the events more clearly, especially with the effects of the dementor, you found yourself curled up in a ball and sobbing. You hadn’t even gotten a proper goodbye. Not even a proper glance across the room. He was gone and you were uncertain if or when you would ever see him again.

“Y/N,” said Pansy’s voice, and you felt a hand on your shoulder.

“I told him I would get him out,” you whispered hoarsely. “I can’t. It’s impossible.”

Her tone when she answered was fiercer than usual; almost like herself again, even with the dementor present. You weren’t quite sure how she was managing it. “Do something for me, Y/N,” she said, wrapping her arms around you in a tight hug, speaking right into your ear. “We’ll all do it. Tell yourself he’s innocent, and Bagman is evil. Concentrate on it. Repeat it to yourself, over and over.”

“Why?” you choked.

“It’s not a happy thought. It can’t be taken from you. We can all think it. All at the same time. We’re all stuck here, that’s not happy either. Think it just like that. Tell yourself those things and keep doing it.”

“He’s innocent,” you said miserably. “Bagman is evil. We’re all stuck here.”

“Bagman is evil,” she repeated. “He should be stopped.”

Another wave of despair crashed over you. “He can’t be stopped,” you wailed.

“Sit up.” She yanked you out of the ball you had curled into. It had felt like your chest was collapsing earlier. Now you felt mostly empty. “Don’t concentrate on that part,” continued Pansy. “He _should_ be stopped. How you phrase it in your head matters. That’s not happy, see? It also can’t be taken away. It’s just a value judgment. He should be stopped, and he isn’t. He _should_ be. Think about it, Y/N. We all will. Keep thinking it. Draco is innocent, and Bagman should be stopped.”

“Bagman should be stopped,” you whispered, with a deep sigh.

“Keep going.” She leaned in to your ear again–breathed it quietly so her voice didn’t carry. “Bagman should be stopped when he comes back here. Think it.”

_Draco is innocent._

_Bagman is evil. He should be stopped._

_No one is stopping him, but he should be stopped._

_He should be stopped when he comes back here._

Dutifully you did it, because you loved and trusted Pansy. Over and over and over.

It did feel better. That much was true. These thoughts didn’t throw you into despair or a spiral as others did, and you felt marginally less clouded in your mind. And yet still the influence of the dementor was there, chanting something else in your brain, and you struggled to keep it at bay.

_Impossible, impossible, impossible._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warnings: hmm language, mentions of torture and briefly suicidal type themes/thoughts, a whole lotta angst


	26. Twenty-Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you may have noticed, this story is coming to a close. There will be one more chapter coming on Monday :)
> 
> Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoy this second to last installment! Don't forget that chapter warnings are in the chapter notes at the end of the chapter if you feel you may need them.

_Bagman is evil. He should be stopped._

_No one is stopping him, but he should be stopped._

_He should be stopped when he comes back here._

“Keep thinking it,” Pansy murmured in your ear yet again. “We all are.”

She was sitting beside you, her hand in yours, with Daphne on her other side and Theo on the far end, everyone grasping each other in a chain of mutual support. The dementor was hovering nearby, and though you carefully avoided looking at it, you still heard its horrible, rattling breaths.

You were unsure how long it had been since the trial, how long you had all been sitting there along the wall. A day? Half a day? Much longer?

The only time measurement you had to go by was the arrival of meals brought by Narcissa, but you were quite certain there was no regularity; likely another way to confuse the prisoners and make sure they had no idea how much time had actually passed. The despair brought on by the dementors also caused much befuddlement, because in the depths of depression it usually felt like time went more slowly—or even skipped by in strange chunks.

But at some point—some indeterminable amount of time later that felt like forever—the distant sound of footsteps could be heard coming down the stairs toward the dungeon.

It had become easy to distinguish Narcissa’s footsteps from Bagman’s.

Narcissa’s feet were quicker and more nimble, while Bagman walked slower and with more purpose, the thud of his shoes heavier on the hard floor.

Pansy’s grip on your arm had become tighter than a vice.

_He should be stopped._

_He should be stopped—_

When the door swung open the dementor, as always, floated slightly closer to the group of prisoners but moved far enough away from Bagman to what you assumed had been determined was a respectable enough distance for the two. Bagman looked gleeful, even more so than usual, and you felt your chest go numb in response. Whatever had him so happy couldn’t be a good thing.

He stood in front of the four of you sitting against the wall, bouncing excitedly on the balls of his feet, his smile taunting. “Did you all enjoy seeing Malfoy sentenced?” His eyes moved to linger on you, and his smile widened. “How about you, sweetheart?”

“Fuck you.” You had wanted to sound vicious, but even to your own ears you sounded exhausted.

Bagman just chuckled. “Stand up, Y/N.”

Pansy’s grip on your wrist somehow became even tighter, but then it loosened to allow you to slowly get to your feet. Your mind was clearer than usual—Pansy’s advice on what thoughts would keep you out of the fog of the dementor had indeed been very helpful—and you possibly would have resisted listening to him if you hadn’t been concerned that Bagman would hurt one of the others rather than punishing you for your own disobedience.

“You too,” said Bagman, gesturing lazily at Daphne. The grin on his face had become predatory.

Pansy made a funny sound in her throat, almost like the hiss of a cat.

Daphne placed a hand on Pansy’s head as she stood, quickly, passing it from the top and down to the end of her hair like she was petting her; warning her to stay quiet. Pansy complied, but her dark eyes were now locked on Bagman and positively sparking with fury.

“Come over here.” Bagman pointed in front of him.

When you arrived at the spot he was indicating, you chanced a glance at Daphne next to you.

She was giving you a fearful look in return, and you saw that her arms were trembling just as yours were. Was he in the mood for some Cruciatus? Sometimes Bagman was, but usually he didn’t exude such positive energy when he came into the dungeon if he was feeling like a little torture.

But Bagman didn’t address the two of you right away.

“Mr. Nott,” he said, in a voice simultaneously pleasant and dangerous, “How would you like to be the one who gets to pay Mr. Malfoy a little visit next?”

Theo, like the rest of you, seemed to realize this was some sort of trick question, because there was a long silence. You didn’t dare turn to look at him, but you knew the thoughtful, concentrated look he probably had on his face as he stared at Bagman. “Why?” he finally asked slowly.

“Well why not, why not?” asked Bagman jovially, chuckling, still bouncing a little. “Everyone should get to see him every once in a while, and he’ll always need the reminder of keeping his mouth shut, won’t he? Besides, now you’ll have much more to talk to him about, won’t you?”

Theo didn’t answer.

Every stilted breath from you and your friends cut through the air like knives.

Finally, Bagman turned his gaze to you and Daphne. He was leering.

“I’m bored,” he said after a moment. “Take off your shirts.”

This time not only Pansy but also Theo made vicious sounds with their mouths, but Bagman held up a hand, and the dementor drifted just a little bit closer. “Be quiet,” commanded Bagman darkly. “Come now Y/N, Daphne. I could use some entertainment, and it’s either this or torturing the others.”

The last thing you wanted to do was expose any inch of your skin, but the alternative was so much worse.

Slowly, fingers trembling uncontrollably, you and Daphne began unbuttoning your shirts and shaking them off.

Bagman stood, eyes flicking between the two of you and staring in a way clearly designed to make you both as uncomfortable as possible. And then he smiled. “Now bras.” When you both stood and watched him, completely frozen, his smile grew wider. “I won’t touch. But it will relax me. Please?"

“No,” growled Pansy from behind the pair of you.

“Quiet, Miss Parkinson, or you can join them,” said Bagman sharply.

You shared a glance with Daphne. She had tears in her eyes, much like you could feel them accumulating in yours, but you recognized the sense of resignation on her face. She would not risk getting Pansy or Theo tortured, and neither would you. At the same time, you both sluggishly moved your arms.

* * *

The door to Draco’s cell opened, jolting him out of his stupor.

Hermione Granger stood in the doorway, arms crossed.

Draco knew that she was seeing him at what was quite possibly his worst. Though he was usually quite vain, however, he couldn’t bring himself to care too much right now that he had bloodshot eyes or dark circles underneath them from lack of sleep, or that his hair was a complete mess.

“What?” He had meant to put more acid in the question, but it didn’t work.

“I’m told you skip all the free time activities.” She raised an eyebrow.

“I wasn’t aware you worked at the prison, Granger, nor that you were my keeping,” he said snidely. “What’s it to you? Go away and let me waste away in my corner in peace.”

Her lips thinned. “Get up.”

“Piss off.”

“Malfoy, get your pale, pointy arse up this instant.” She drew her wand and pointed it at him.

Scowling deeply, he hauled himself to his feet. His legs felt strange. He hadn’t been using them much since he had been officially sentenced and reduced to sitting in this cell. But though he was a little wobbly, he rose his chin and tried to exude an air of confident defiance.

“Follow me.” Granger tilted her head out the cell, and though Draco didn’t want to go anywhere he had no choice but to obey, walking ahead of her. The point of Granger’s wand came to his back, right between his shoulder blades, and he shuddered, remembering all too well how it had felt to have his own mother’s wand there and the threat of the others in the house hanging over him.

“Where are we going?” he asked dully, trudging along the row of cells.

Other prisoners—most Death Eaters that had been rounded up after the war—jeered at them as they passed, or tried to spit on them, or called them names. Granger, like Draco, ignored them as best they could, though her feet had picked up their pace behind him.

“I told the guard I would try and get you to finally participate in activity time,” he heard Granger say briskly. “They seemed unwilling to make you go by force. I have no such qualms.”

Draco grumbled, but knew better than to say anything more. Hermione Granger was, quite possibly, one of the most formidable people he knew; and he was very much wandless.

To his surprise, however, she jabbed him on the side when he made the turn to go down the corridor that would take them toward the area of Azkaban—newly built—where prisoners were allowed to go for various free time activities. Instead, she was guiding him another direction.

“I would think you’d have a better sense of direction to the new facilities, Granger, seeing as you helped get them built,” said Draco sarcastically.

“I know exactly where I’m going, Malfoy.” Her voice was very prim.

They were two corridors away from the main entrance to Azkaban and the guard’s quarters—where Draco assumed she was taking him to be reprimanded for not being agreeable—when footsteps began to draw closer, echoing from around the corner ahead.

Granger stopped, and Draco followed suit. He peeked over his shoulder and saw her fumbling in her robe pocket, lips pursed even tighter than they'd been at his cell and looking rather grim.

“What are you doing?” he snapped.

She didn’t answer directly; she just held up a chunk of something that Draco recognized immediately.

He had used it in Hogwarts, after all; had bought it in bulk from Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezies. Even back then, when he had thought them so inferior for being blood traitors, he had been able to recognize that their products were nothing short of incredible.

“What the—" Draco began, but Granger cut him off impatiently.

“Hold my sleeve to stay with me, or you won’t be able to see,” she said, and then she threw the Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder to the ground.

As promised, the entire corridor immediately went pitch black.

Draco fumbled for her arm, and thankfully grabbed hold of her left one so she could pull him along in the corridor. Something very much like hope was blooming in his chest, especially when he heard her make a wand movement and two bodies fall with a thud at the end of the corridor.

“Granger," he began hoarsely, heart thrumming. “Are you _insane_?”

“Oh come now, you really think I won’t be able to pull off getting you out of here, Malfoy?” she hissed back, dragging him more quickly along the corridor now. “I helped break into Gringott’s, stole from your aunt's vault, and rode out on a captive dragon, for Merlin’s sake. This is nothing. Just hurry up, keep up with me! There aren’t many guards at this time of day.”

He wanted to ask why she was doing this, or even demand that she put him back into the cell, fearful that news of this escape would reach Bagman, but they had reached the entrance.

Granger must have thrown down more powder, because Draco still couldn’t see a thing. It was a very strange sensation, blindly being dragged along by clutching to Hermione Granger’s sleeve as she broke him out of Azkaban, hearing her take down guards as she went, indicated by the thudding noises he heard as they dropped to the ground.

It was when they had made it outside and Hermione had Stunned the guards there that Draco stopped. “I don’t have a wand,” he croaked. “Why are you breaking me out? I need my fucking wand, Granger, I can’t function wi—"

She pulled it out of her robes, smiling vaguely. “You mean this?”

He stared at her for a moment. “How did you get that?”

“I told you, I talked to the guards before getting to your cell. I Confunded the ones in their quarters and stole it. It was alarmingly easy, really.”

“ _Merlin—"_ he began, blinking. The sunlight was harsh on his eyes out here.

“I told you, Malfoy, Harry, Ron and I broke into the Wizarding bank. And the Ministry.” She smirked. “Also, I don’t have much respect for institutional rules if I find them unjust. Now come on, we have to stop Bagman.”

“How did you—" he sputtered, eyes widening, but quieted down when she just threw him a look.

“Don’t insult me by underestimating me, Malfoy,” she sniffed, holding her arm out again. “You did that far too long. I’ll Apparate you. Otherwise I’m afraid you’ll collapse or something.”

The Apparation did, in fact, take a lot more out of him than usual. When they landed outside the gates of Malfoy Manor, Draco was wheezing a little.

Even though he was swaying a little, he immediately was at the gate and performing the spell to send a bit of his blood splattering at it.

But the gate didn’t open.

“ _Fuck_!” Draco swore angrily.

He was _so close_. So close to where you and his friends were.

What if Bagman found out about the breakout quickly? And, of course, there was the Ministry or more guards at Azkaban. They would come looking here, and Bagman might—

He was going to lose it.

“Granger,” he said, whirling to face her, his voice rough and his eyes positively wild, “Granger, he’s had my mother change the wards, I’m not allowed…”

Draco trailed off when he saw her pulling a vial of blood out of her robes.

“Are you serious?” he asked weakly.

“It’s Bagman’s,” explained Hermione. “I’m sorry, Draco, I would have gotten you out and we could have done this rescue two days ago when I realized it was him, but I guessed about the wards and thought it best if I get some of his blood first. I had to find him and secretly get some out of him. Believe me, it was not easy. But it should work.”

She unstopped the vial and splashed it on the gate.

Sure enough, it swung open.

Draco was too furious and wound up to remember that he was still weak from not eating and exhausted from not sleeping. He strode forward toward Malfoy Manor, his blood boiling and wand out, and Hermione Granger hurrying along beside him.

* * *

Just as you and Daphne were reaching behind you for the clasps of your bras, there was a loud shriek followed by the distinct, incredible sound of Pansy and Theo leaping to their feet.

Bagman rose his wand, the teasing, taunting smile gone and a furious expression on his face instead.

You and Daphne spun just in time to see the dementor gliding threateningly toward Pansy and Theo.

“NO!” shrieked Daphne, and a few things happened at once.

Both Theo and Pansy were sprinting toward Bagman with the clear intention of mowing him down. The chances would be better that at least someone would take him out if you and Daphne helped too, and so you both turned again and leaped toward Ludo Bagman, invigorated by Theo and Pansy’s attack.

Bagman had successfully shot a spell at Theo, hitting him square in the chest. Theo flew back and landed on the ground and didn’t move again.

But the brief moment that Bagman had taken to fire a spell at Theo had been enough for you and Daphne to claw at him fiercely, your combined body weights enough to knock him over and send his wand clattering.

Both of you were furiously scratching at his face and yanking on his hair, trying to keep him down; your heart was thrilling wildly in your chest, and any moment you expected the dementor to put its cold, clammy hands on your arm, or your chin, and turn you around to start executing the Dementor’s Kiss.

When that did not happen for several moments, fear shot through you and you glanced around wildly.

It was still drawing rattling breaths, it was still behind you—but it had caught Pansy instead. Pansy lie flat on her back and helpless on the ground; the dementor’s hood was lowered, revealing the rotting flesh underneath; its hands had come to rest on her chin, slowly beginning to tilt her head up.

“ _NO_!” screamed Daphne again, and she lunged away from Bagman and toward his wand that had scattered across the floor, crawling desperately toward it. Bagman snarled and grabbed her ankle, slowing her down for a moment, but you aimed a furious kick at his knee and he yelped, releasing Daphne.

You had a split second of triumph where you saw Daphne reach the wand.

And then Bagman flipped you over, pinning you beneath him and his eyes glinting fanatically. Desperately, you tried to launch up and head butt him, but he dodged out of the way.

“Nice try, sweetheart,” he hissed, and then he rolled off and attempted to get to Daphne and the wand, who was clearly a higher priority at the moment.

You grabbed his leg, clinging tightly even though he kicked your stomach.

Wincing, you just snatched his other leg and pulled as best you could, holding him back.

Slowing him down just enough.

You could see how the dementor was mere inches away from Pansy’s mouth.

“ _EXPECTO_ _PATRONUM_!”

Daphne shouldn’t have been able to produce a Patronus under these circumstances, much less with someone else’s wand and not her own.

But it worked, and she had, and out of the tip of her wand blossomed a majestic, glimmering white swan, which glided forward at lightning speed and tackled the dementor, knocking it away from Pansy at the very last second. The creature flew backward through the air and soared out of the dungeon; Bagman let out a scream of derision, kicking furiously, aiming at your ribs and hitting them often, and—

And the door flew open, with such force that it slammed loudly against the wall.

“Draco,” you gasped out, so surprised that you momentarily let your grip on Bagman slide, wondering if you were hallucinating or had gone mad.

Because it _was_ Draco framed in the doorway, hair wild and appearing ready to charge, with a dangerous and frightening glint in his eye; over his shoulder, you saw a gigantic mass of curls that indicated the presence of Hermione Granger.

Hope made you momentarily dizzy.

Draco’s gray eyes took all of two seconds to take in everything before he rushed forward, jabbing his wand furiously at Bagman.

A deep violet light came out of the end of Draco’s wand; Bagman was able to roll and just avoid it, but he didn’t miss the next one. The next three, really, for Hermione and Daphne had also sent a spell at him; the trifecta of spells hit him directly in the face.

Bagman let out a gasp and choked, twitching a few times before he collapsed, unconscious.

Immediately, Hermione conjured ropes that bound him tightly.

Daphne had already strode over to pick up the discarded shirts, her eyes blazing; she tossed yours over and then went rushed to Pansy and help her to her feet. You barely had time to slip it on before Draco had fallen to his knees on the ground beside you and wrapped you up in his arms so tightly you could hardly breathe.

“You’re here,” was all you could whisper hoarsely, grasping desperately at his shirt and curling up to him as close as you possibly could. “You two—you saved us—” You felt dazed. Like it wasn't real. Like a good dream, and you'd wake up and still be captive.

“It seemed you were all doing quite well on your own, actually,” he murmured, grip tightening.

“Theo,” you gasped, clawing your way up to peek over Draco’s shoulder. Draco’s blonde head also turned to see

Hermione was already crouched over him, Pansy and Daphne hovering close behind and looking on fearful. He’s just fine,” Hermione concluded. “Just knocked out. _Renervate_.”

You saw Theo begin to blink and slowly sit up, and slumped against Draco further in relief.

Upon seeing Draco and Hermione, he grinned. “Nice of you two to show up. Perfect timing, really.”

“My mother,” said Draco, and you clung to him more fiercely, running your fingers through his hair soothingly. “Where is she? Is she—”

“She’s alive and uninjured last we saw her,” said Pansy, sounding a little shaky.

“I need to find her,” said Draco, getting to his feet and carefully helping you with him. He did not release you from his hug; he still kept you pulled tightly against his chest.

“I can help you,” said Hermione. “Since Bagman is still alive—"

“He shouldn’t be,” growled Draco, eyes glinting dangerously as his gaze swept over the man on the floor.

You felt how he was shaking with rage, and how his arm twitched at his side, as if itching to kill him; you rubbed slow, steady circles on his chest to soothe him. You’d knock his wand away if you had to. There was no way you were letting him go back to Azkaban.

“—and I assume she was under the Imperius,” continued Hermione, shooting Draco a warning look. “So she’ll still be under it and may attempt to—er—duel us at first. We’ll have to find her and get her to show us where your wands are, and then lift it. After that she’ll need to go to St. Mungo’s. Her brain will need to be checked to make sure there’s no lasting damage.”

“I’ll help too,” said Theo, getting to his feet and holding out his hand for Bagman’s wand, which Daphne relinquished before grasping Pansy.

Another violent tremor went through Draco’s body, and then he looked down at you. There was conflict in his eyes.

You knew why. He wanted to go look for his mother without you due to the potential duel before they were able to lift the curse, but was probably unwilling to let you out of his sight. “Go,” you said softly. “Maybe Daphne, Pansy, and I can alert someone…”

“Harry,” said Hermione decisively. “Floo Harry and no one else. Let no one in this Manor yet. I didn’t exactly get Malfoy out of Azkaban legally.”

You had guessed as much, but your heart was still racing at the thought of Ministry officials coming to take Draco away again. Perhaps it was dramatic, but you thought that maybe you’d die before letting that happen again. Too much had happened.

You refused to lose Draco again to an incompetent Ministry.

“Thank you, Hermione,” you said, voice thick as grateful tears began to form.

She gave you a sympathetic smile. “Think nothing of it. We’ll talk more later. For now, we should go…” She glanced at Draco and Theo.

Draco leaned down and kissed you. His hands were on your face and your hair and it was desperate, and when he pulled away he mumbled against your mouth, “I love you. I won’t be long.”

The next hour or so was a blur.

Draco, Hermione, and Theo were gone for approximately forty minutes to search for Narcissa and remove the curse. Harry came through the Floo after you, Daphne, and Pansy called him to apprehend Bagman and take him away, still unconscious. You tried not to feel nervous or twitchy having Draco away from you; it was understandable, but something you just had to ignore.

When they all came back, Narcissa in tow, you went to stand directly at his side again, arms touching, feeling the ball of anxiety relax again.

Much to his irritation and helplessness, Draco could not accompany his mother to St. Mungo’s. Theo, Daphne, and Pansy ended up going with her; afterward, they were going back to their own places for the night. You couldn’t blame them for wanting to be home.

Narcissa was still sobbing uncontrollably as they guided her out the front door. And Draco was still shaking long after she’d left.

Hermione left right after; she and Harry were planning on dealing with the ire of Azkaban and the Ministry and report back. Draco was to stay in the Manor until there was more information.

As soon as you were alone, Draco turned, picked you up, and settled with you on the couch. He turned you toward him, checked you extensively for injuries, and asked you questions about your imprisonment. When he was satisfied that you were not too badly harmed—emotionally or physically—the desperate, anxious light in his eyes was replaced with triumph, and he kissed you for a long time before lying down and pulling you with him.

He was asleep moments later. You guessed that he hadn’t slept much in Azkaban judging by the dark shadows under his eyes. Back here, with him, it felt safe again, even after everything. You nestled into his neck, edging as close as possible. It took you longer, but eventually you found yourself drifting off to sleep as well.

It was sometime late in the evening when you were being shaken awake.

A glance at the grandfather clock told you that it was nearing eleven, and then you caught the sight of the familiar bushy hair. “Hey,” said Hermione, smiling gently. “I have news.”

“What is it?” You were wide awake instantaneously, moving to sit up.

Draco shot awake behind you with a startled gasp, his arms tightening around your waist and glancing around wildly before he seemed to remember where he was. His grip on you loosened as he rubbed sleep from his eyes. “Granger,” he greeted, a little hoarsely.

“The Ministry is understandably furious, but mostly at me. Luckily they can't chuck away a war heroine that helped save their arses during the War, particularly not one vouched for by Harry Potter,” said Hermione, her mouth twitching. “Though they insist on reviewing the whole case. While they do so, Draco is under house arrest.”

“What about my mother?” Draco asked, agitated. “How is she? And I don’t want her staying alone at the hospital. I have to at least be allowed to visit her."

“I spoke to St. Mungo’s,” said Hermione. “Your mother has no permanent or lasting damage, though—er—psychologically speaking, she will need to see someone regularly for a while. There is a Healer willing to come stay here at the Manor so that she can come home, if you’re okay with that.”

“Yes, of course,” said Draco quickly. “Did you hear anything about Blaise?”

“He is almost fully recovered and will be released within a week,” said Hermione.

You felt Draco's muscles relax in relief.

“What case do they need to review, exactly?” you asked. “Isn’t it obvious now it was Bagman?”

“Well yes,” admitted Hermione. “But they want more hard evidence. They’ll question him with Veritaserum over the next few days, so that should officially lock down your freedom, Malfoy,” she said, giving him a glance. “Before that, they plan on going to his residence and seeing if they can find other evidence as well. Perhaps we can find more people that were working for him, either under the Imperius Curse or not; but since I assume most were Cursed, we can assume the danger is mostly lifted." She frowned. "Still, even after the house arrest lifts, I suggest staying in your homes a bit and limiting visitors. Just a precaution for a few weeks.”

Draco nodded briefly, slumping back into the couch, but one hand stayed lightly on your hip; you curled against him again automatically.

It was as if you had to keep touching each other, even if it was just a little. To reassure the other was still there.

“Harry is leading the investigation and he’s on your side, so you’re in good hands,” said Hermione gently. “You’ll just have to sit tight here for a bit. You can also expect Harry to come take your official statements sometime tomorrow. Probably in the afternoon.”

“You’re incredible,” you told her. “Thank you. For—for everything.”

“Anytime," she said, throwing you a pleased smile. “I’m heading out now, then. I’ll be here to bring your mother over with the Healer in the morning as soon as she’s awake, Malfoy.”

“Thank you,” he said. “Granger—back in the cell—please know I didn’t mean it at all when I called you—”

“I know,”, she said calmly. “You had to take the fall for your friends, and you thought I was threatening that.”

You all exchanged smiles before she nodded and went back to the Floo, disappearing into the flames.

It was quiet for a few moments, and then Draco kissed your neck before turning you to face him; just staring at you for a long while.

“I know it will take some time, but it seems things can start going back to normal,” you said finally, touching his face. “I don’t feel like we’ve gotten to enjoy, you know—the beginning of this..."You gestured between you and him. “...as much as we could have.”

He kissed you, brushing hair out of your face. “Yes,” he said. “But we can have lots of beginnings now.”

“Do you—” You hesitated. His father had just died. And his mother was going to be damaged, at least emotionally, for a very long time. All of you would. "Do you want to—to talk about anything?”

“Not quite yet, love,” Draco said, tilting his forehead to yours. “I’m hungry. I want to shower and go cook something with you. And I want to spend the three days with you just trying to relax.” His mouth quirked up. "And enjoying this." He gestured between the two of you.

“Okay,” you said, smiling, brushing your hands over his cheekbones again. He closed his eyes at your touch, sighing a little, and his fingers closed over your wrists. And then you grinned wider. “But you? Cooking? I’m hungry too, and I want it to be edible, Draco.”

His eyes flew open. “You’re there to supervise,” he pointed out, smiling.

“Fair enough,” you said. “Though I’m not that great at it either. It won’t be anything like what the elves could make. Maybe we should just have them come in too and teach us.”

“If it comes to that, I’ll give them a raise for attempting such a feat,” he said.

You laughed. "We really should learn though. And they deserve a raise regardless, don't you think?"

"Very true," he murmured, kissing your forehead and smiling at you in a way that made your insides melt.

Standing, you took his hand and pulled him to his feet; he tucked an arm around your waist and together, you went off to get cleaned up and eat.

You were determined, after everything, to enjoy the little things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warnings: language, violence & duels, vaguely non-con ish elements (just removing an article of clothing against someone’s will but the sexual horror is there so i mean warning necessary), angst, psychological damage


	27. Twenty-Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warnings: language, mentions of psychological trauma and grief, sexual themes & a light dash of smutty stuff, I......think that is all. More notes at the end :)

**One Year Later**

Time has a way of healing things.

Not completely—perhaps never completely.

The Wizarding World still had many years to go, you suspected, before it was free from the problems and pain of its past. It was probably something for younger generations to fully enjoy.

But things were looking up for both the society and for all of you.

All of you had begun seeing a therapist. It had been awkward and painful at the beginning, but—unsurprisingly—it had helped. After six months the nightmares and flashbacks had stopped.

After the next six, managing emotions in your daily life, particularly the fear about letting any of your friends go somewhere alone, became easier for both you and Draco.

Narcissa, it seemed, would have the longest healing path of any of you, and every single one of you were certain to spend extra time with her.

Esmeralda Zabini was a frequent visitor and, to everyone’s surprise, Hermione had also taken the initiative to visit Narcissa once some months ago.

During that initial visit they had bonded so much over tea and literature that Hermione Granger also became a regular visitor to Draco’s mother; a testimony to the fact that the world was moving forward and that old wounds were steadily beginning to close.

After a year had passed Narcissa’s eyes had become less dead, she was giving people small smiles again, and she had very aggressively thrown herself into organizing charity work with Pansy.

Lucius’ funeral, held one month after Draco had been officially pardoned by the Ministry, had been short, simple, and elegant. Narcissa hadn’t been able to speak, but Draco had, and then he had come to sit again in the front row and tucked his blonde head on your shoulder and let you hold him.

You spent plenty of time holding each other like that in the early months, clinging to each other almost for dear life, especially during nights, when the bad dreams would hit or when Draco’s grief for his father or for the state of his mother felt like too much to bear.

But over time things did get easier, as they tend to do.

It had been nine months after it all ended that you realized how _content_ you actually were.

* * *

It happened on a quiet Tuesday night at the Manor, in the spring.

Narcissa was finally well enough to go off to Italy with Esmeralda, as she had planned to do so long ago, and she had left that day. For one whole month she would get sea and sunshine and excellent food. Your friends had all come over and you had all spent a lovely afternoon together before seeing her off and wishing her well.

But after, you and Draco were alone again, and had immediately taken advantage of this time—as soon as the front door had closed he was pulling you off to his bedroom.

Just like always, Draco Malfoy never disappointed.

Shock waves of powerful pleasure traveled up your spine when you came, your hands fumbling almost blindly to grip at his hair and draw him closer, ever closer, toes curling and gasping and delighting in your name falling out of his lips, and then he pulled out but not away, never away, and yanked you to his chest, slowly kissing you while your breathing subsided.

“I think,” you told him after a while, tracing your finger on his pale chest, over his scars, “I’d like to volunteer my time with something. Do something helpful for others, you know. Like your mother and Pansy are doing. Maybe Daphne and I could start something."

“Mmm,” he agreed, petting your hair. “That’s a very good idea. I think I will too, if people will take me. If not I can throw money at them, I suppose.”

You giggled, and his eyes scrunched up at the corners in a smile of his own as he watched you laugh. The look on his face, for some reason, was making you quite shy. He could still fluster you and flatter you—time had not changed this—but it had been a while since the intensity of his gaze or the tenderness of it had made you so very breathless.

“What is it?”

“I can’t take it anymore,” he said suddenly, sitting up and pulling you with him, turning to look directly at your face. His gray eyes had that familiar, determined light in them.

“What?” You smiled nervously.

“Not being married to you,” he said seriously. “Let’s get married, Y/N.”

You stared at him. “Right…right now?” you asked, laughing a little.

“Yes,” he said fiercely, the light in his eyes getting brighter. “Let’s go somewhere beautiful and get married. Quietly. If you want a big ceremony with everyone there, we can do it when we get back. I’m sure my mother and Pansy would love having something like that to plan for a few months. And if you want me to I’ll propose to you all over again, properly and on my knee. But if you want to do this too then I think we should leave right now, this very moment, just you and I—”

You cut him off by kissing him, hard. “Okay,” you breathed against his lips.

He smiled. “Okay?”

“Yes. Let’s do it. Let’s elope.” Your heart was fluttering like mad.

He immediately scrambled to stand up from the bed, took his wand from the bedside table, and flicked it; suitcases came bursting out of the wardrobe and clothes began flying out from drawers, folding themselves neatly and tucking into the suitcases. "Where are we going?” you asked, elated.

“Where do _you_ want to go?” he asked.

“Somewhere warm. Somewhere pretty. I don’t really care if I’m with you.”

He shot you a very dazzling smile. “Greece is warm. Greece is pretty. Greece is relatively easy to travel to from the Ministry. No extra paperwork.”

“Good. Yes. Let’s go there,” you said, eyes dragging over him as he began slipping clothes on.

He caught your eye movements and grinned. “Save that energy,” he said, voice silky with seduction. “Once we’re there I plan to fuck you very vigorously on a beach. I’ve always wanted to.”

“Merlin,” you breathed, flustered, and he just laughed.

“Anything particular you want to bring? I think I’m almost done.”

You stood and joined him at the dresser, reaching to the jewelry tray and pulling out the necklace he had given you on your birthday; wordlessly, you handed it to him and turned so that he could put it on. You caught his smile before you fully turned around, and then he was fastening it on your neck.

His fingertips trailed softly over your neck, down your sides, and then rested on your hips. He took another step closer and pressed his lips into the side of your neck. “As much as I hate to say this,” he murmured, “You should get dressed. He paused for a second, and you could hear the grin in his voice. “If you’d like to become a nudist once we get there that’s one thing and I'm sure that could be arranged, but waltzing into the Ministry like this _may_ cause some problems…”

“Shut up,” you laughed, elbowing him gently, and you began hunting around for your clothes.

Once you had them on and everything was double checked, there was a brief moment of silence.

“Ready?” he said finally.

“Positively itching to marry you,” you said, and his eyes blazed and he stepped forward and kissed you, hard. When he pulled back he gave you a huge, adoring smile which matched your own before holding out his hand, eyes dancing with the excitement that accompanied spontaneity.

You slipped your hand in his and let him lead you out into the living room, to the fireplace with the Floo, and, eventually, to the beaches of Greece.

This would be, you knew, just one more memory in a string of life adventures with Draco Malfoy.

And you had a feeling each one would somehow be better than the last.

* * *

**FIN**

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is one of the first stories I started, is so far the longest, and is now complete! I can't believe it.
> 
> I wanted to say THANK YOU for those reading, following along, giving kudos, and especially commenting. I so appreciate you doing so. The support of readers keeps me going <3 I hope to see you in future stories! Much love!


	28. Post Epilogue Drabble

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An Anon over on Tumblr had a headcanon about them having a small ceremony with friends and family because the girls wouldn't have wanted to be left out, which prompted this extra post epilogue drabble :)

“What? Why are you looking at me like that?” Draco arched an amused eyebrow, having caught you side-eyeing him as you waited in line at customs inside the Ministry to return home.

“I just still can’t believe you got so tan,” you told him, grinning. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so dark before. I didn’t know it was possible.”

“Me either,” he said, flashing you a smile before grimacing. “Though I think it only happened because I got completely fried on that day we took the glass bottom boat tour. I suffered for this.”

He dramatically waved a hand over himself, and you snorted. “So did I,” you reminded him. “I had to keep putting aloe vera on you for two days straight.”

“My skin thanks you,” he said, tucking his hand in yours and absentmindedly fiddling with the ring now there.

“How many owls did you get from the others?” you asked suddenly. “We were gone three weeks and I’d say an average of one per day. Maybe more.”

“Same,” said Draco. “Every single one of them suspects, by the way.”

“Yes, I know,” you said, laughing. “They said as much in my letters too.”

It took another twenty minutes before you were cleared and able to step through a Ministry approved Floo, one after the other. Draco went first, and as soon as you made it to the fireplace of Malfoy Manor, dusting off, you saw that your arrival would not go undetected.

Daphne was there with Narcissa—upon seeing Draco enter it seemed they had leapt to their feet, for a forgotten game of wizard’s chess was on the table beside them. Both of them were staring at your left hands.

Neither of them looked surprised.

“I knew it!” wailed Narcissa in an uncharacteristic show of emotion, sweeping forward and throwing herself first on her son, and then on you. “Oh, I’m so pleased, I love you both so much, _Merlin_ , now I have a _daughter_ —”

“If you want any rest because you just arrived home,” said Daphne quickly, voice low and urgent and her eyes darting toward the kitchen, “Then I suggest we rendezvous later and you get up to your room _now_ , because Pansy—”

Her voice was drowned out by Pansy’s shrill one yelling menacingly from the kitchen, but getting steadily louder.

“IS THAT THEM? ARE THEY HERE?!”

You jumped and shot Draco a glance; he was peeking at you over his mother’s shoulder with the same sense of alarm that you were currently feeling.

“I HEARD THE FLOO! THEY ARE HERE AREN’T THEY, THOSE SLIPPERY, CONNIVING LITTLE—”

Pansy suddenly appeared in the room, cheeks flushed and chest heaving, standing there and staring you down like a bull about to charge.

Her eyes flicked down to your rings.

For a split second, you saw something like unbridled joy flit across her features.

And then her face twisted in rage.

“Hiya Pans,” you said, smiling nervously.

“Don’t you ‘Hiya Pans’ me!!” she shrieked, rushing forward to grip your shoulders. “I’m going to _kill_ you—”

“Pansy,” drawled Draco, grinning, “I’m going to have to ask that you please refrain from murdering my wife.”

“Your wi—” She stopped abruptly, pivoting on her heel to face him. “DRACO MALFOY, DON’T YOU GO RUBBING SALT IN THE WOUND! I HOPE THAT THE SUNBURN THAT GAVE YOU THAT ATROCIOUS TAN WAS _EXTREMELY_ PAINFUL!”

At that precise moment, Blaise and Theo stepped through the fireplace.

It took them two seconds to determine what was happening, judging by the looks of glee on their faces.

“Well hello, Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy,” said Theo, grinning like a madman. “Draco, what happened to you?”

“The sun, Theodore,” said Draco. “You should try it sometime. Might stop you getting mistaken for a specter.”

“Shut it,” said Theo, rolling his eyes.

“Have we missed all of Pansy’s outburst?” said Blaise with a dazzling grin, flicking a speck of dust from his immaculate robes and glancing up eagerly. “Or do we still get to be treated to a bit of the show?”

“No, Blaise, I am certainly not done!” said Pansy, shooting him a glare.

“Pansy was just a teensy little bit upset that she wasn’t there to see you get married,” said Daphne to you, smiling apologetically. “As you can tell.”

“The _nerve_!” Pansy seethed, shooting you a very dirty look. “And to think I had already been planning your ceremony for _months_ and then you two _monsters_ don’t even ask me to do it.” She sniffed and rose her chin haughtily. “I very much regret the dedication with which I put together your wedding plans.”

“Oh, Pansy,” you began gently. “They won’t go to waste. We always planned on having you throw us something. We just didn’t want to wait any longer. Of course we want you to plan something and want you all there.”

“Well,” she said, sniffing again. “I suppose that’ll have to do.” Her eyes flicked down to your ring again. “At least Draco has good taste when it comes to jewelry. I had planned on helping him shop for the—” She paused, and you stared in shock as you saw tears beginning to accumulate in her eyes. When she spoke again, she rather sounded as if she had a head cold. “For the ring. You’re actually….married.”

You took her hands and squeezed them.

“Pansy,” said Theo. “Are you actually near tears, or am I hallucinating?”

“Of course not!” she snapped, rounding on him. “Shut your mouth, Theodore, we all know that at the ceremony—the _real_ , _official_ ceremony, by the way—” she added, throwing you and Draco an extremely nasty glare as Draco sauntered over and put an arm around your shoulders, tugging you closer, “—that you, Theo, will be the one doing all the blubbering.” She sniffed again, swiping her eyes. “I have—allergies.”

“Allergies?” Draco’s mouth twitched.

“Yes, Draco, _allergies_!” hissed Pansy, wiping her eyes again. “Honestly, we’ve known each other our entire lives and you somehow don’t remember that I have yearly allergies? You twat.”

“Mmm,” said Draco, very amused now, “Except your allergies act up in the early spring, Pansy, and unless my wife and I were gone _much_ longer than we realized, it is not, in fact, early spring.”

“Shut up,” Pansy muttered, and then she hugged you both fiercely.

“We love you, Pansy,” you told her, as Draco patted her back and nodded.

“Idiots,” she said, but her tone was significantly less sharp and laced with affection. “I’m going to throw you the best damn wedding there ever was.”


End file.
